


Forever Changed

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Confusion, Dating, Doubt, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Flirting, Homophobia, Kissing, Library, Love, M/M, Nerves, Unilock, alternative universe, collegelock, different first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8284226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: Sherlock and John go to the same university, but exist in different worlds until a chance meeting in the library. The universe drew them together because each has something to teach the other and both will end up forever changed.





	1. In The Library

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. **We hope you'll subscribe.**
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading and liking and being a great community!

Sherlock was frustrated. He'd spent the last two hours looking through old scientific journals, searching for a detail he was certain should be there. He sat down in a corner table and pulled out a small notebook, reading through the information once again.

In truth, while he might have been frustrated, he didn't regret the time spent in the library. It was quite nice actually. Quiet and calm. A lot of his life was quite the opposite, which was fine in some ways, because he thrived in that kind of environment. But sometimes quiet and calm were also nice, especially here surrounded by so many pages of facts. It felt safe.

He looked up when he heard footfall on the stairs. A man came into the room. He was short and handsome. Those were the two things Sherlock thought first. The man looked over, Sherlock nodded slightly, and then turned his eyes back to his notebook.

John nodded at the man sitting at the table before weaving through the aisles. He was going to sit at his usual table downstairs, but then he remembered that for the last few months it had been his and Megan's table. And now Megan was sitting there with her group of friends. John had disappeared up the stairs before they could see him. The break up had been messy enough without a public encounter just days after it happened. He sat down at a table in the back corner and took out his laptop to get started on his assignment. 

Once he'd written his introduction and started getting into the meat of the essay, John decided to take a break from the screen by finding the books he needed for his research. He moved through the different aisles, collecting a decent batch, until finding the last one on the top shelf. He stretched and couldn't even reach the shelf, let alone the book. He looked around for a stool, moving through the rows in his search. 

Sherlock lifted his eyes occasionally watching the guy who was moving around the aisles. Did he not understand how the Dewey Decimal Classification worked? Sherlock wondered if he should add a bit dim to his list of adjectives to describe this man. He kept an eye on him for a few more minutes. Then he got up and walked over. "Are you struggling to locate something?" he asked him a bit testily. "There is an organisation here, you know. It's not too complicated."

John stopped and looked up at the man. He was tall, a bit stern looking, but also handsome. John pushed the thought out of his head. "Right, I know how to find books obviously," he said, lifting the stack in his arms a bit to show the man. "I was looking for a stool so I could reach the last book I need. You're tall -- could you get it down for me?" 

Sherlock glanced up at the top shelf -- medical books covered it. He looked back at the man, realising he wasn't dim at all. He was obviously still short and, closer up, even more handsome. "All right," he said, reaching up. "Which one?"

"That big red one about anatomy," he said. He shifted his other books to get ready to balance the new one on top. 

Sherlock reached up and brought the book down to rest on the pile the man was holding. "What's your name then?" he asked.

"John," he said. "Thanks for your help." He peered around the stack in his hands and made his way to his table again.

Sherlock followed John to the table. "Aren't you curious?" he asked.

John set the books down a bit hard and turned around again. "Curious about what?"

"About my name," Sherlock said. He sat down at the table.

John watched him sit. He kept standing for a few seconds before he sat down as well. "Yeah, actually I am," he said.

"You didn't act very curious," Sherlock said. "I mean a normal person might get the impression that all you were interested in was getting a hold of that book."

"That is what I was interested in," John said. "But interests can change whenever we want them to."

"It's Sherlock," Sherlock said.

"Holmes?" John asked. "One of your chemistry reports was used as an example in my class. It was excellent."

Sherlock's body filled with a very nice feeling at these words, but he decided not to let it show. "Yes, that was most likely mine," he said. "I mean, because I'm the only Sherlock Holmes at this university."

John smiled. "I should have met you when I was taking that class. I was dreadful," he admitted. 

"Well, obviously you didn't need me then," Sherlock said. "We met when you needed me -- to reach the book, I mean."

"I could have got the book easier than I got chemistry," John laughed.

"I thought you wanted to be a doctor," Sherlock said.

"I do," John said a bit surprised. He glanced at his books and smiled at Sherlock.

"Chemistry is good for a doctor to know," Sherlock said. He looked around the room. "Why are up here studying this early in the morning? Don't you have more interesting things to be doing?"

"My paper is due in two days and I've only just started," John said. "Don't you have more interesting things to do?"

"There's not much more interesting than learning," Sherlock said. "To me, at least. Why did you wait to the last minute to start your assignment?"

John's thoughts drifted down to Megan, and he shook his head. "There was just a lot going on."

Sherlock looked closely at John's face. "So you've got a broken heart?" he asked.

"How -- no, I don't care," John said quickly. "I'm fine."

"You don't care that I know or you don't care that you got dumped?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't get dumped," John retorted. He pulled his books close and opened one at random. He did not want to talk about it.

"All right," Sherlock said, standing up. "I'm going to finish my work over there. Once you get done, if you want to talk more, you'll know where to find me." He smiled. "I'll be over there," he said again as he moved back to the corner table.

John glanced up at Sherlock and nodded. He leaned over his book more. Did Sherlock know Megan? Had she sent him to cause John grief as well? He took a deep breath and expelled all of those thoughts so he could get back to work.

Sherlock did a few more searches online and was pretty sure he'd finally found what he needed. Perhaps that guy had brought him so luck? He moved to the shelf and found the journal he needed and, smiling smugly, carried it back to his seat.

After three hours of steady typing, John saved his paper and started putting the books away. He glanced at Sherlock every time he passed within view of the table. When he was holding the last one, he wandered to Sherlock's table. "Will you put this up for me?"

Sherlock looked up from his notebook where he'd been scribbling information. It took him a second to return to the room. "I certainly will," he said, smiling a little.

John pushed the book towards him but continued to stand there, smiling back. Sherlock double checked the number and moved to the correct aisle, hoping John would follow him. John watched him walk off. He stood there by Sherlock's table, looking over at his notes, and then felt a bit awkward. He followed Sherlock. "Have you always been tall?" he asked.

"My entire life," Sherlock said. "In fact, I used to be taller, but I was worried it might restrict my career options, so I got an inch or two shorter to avoid being limited to circus work only."

John snorted and quickly covered his mouth. "That was a dumb question, sorry."

Sherlock smiled. "It was," he said. "Would you like to try again?"

"Are you studying to be a chemist?"

"No," Sherlock said, pretending to look at the books at the shelf above John's head.

"What are you studying, then?" John asked, still watching Sherlock.

"Human behaviour," Sherlock said. "And deception."

John narrowed his eyes. "Are you deceiving me now?

Sherlock turned and looked directly into John's eyes. "Do you think I am?" he asked.

John felt his cheeks warm. Sherlock's eyes were beautiful -- he couldn't look away and he was terrified Sherlock could read what he was thinking. "I don't know..." he said, shaking his head lightly.

"Well, I'm not deceiving you," Sherlock said, looking away. "Not really, I mean, that is what I spend my time studying. But I am also on the chemistry course." He turned to face John. "And what are you going to do now?"

John looked away as well, steadying his breath a bit. He glanced at Sherlock and shrugged. "I don't know. Wait, do you mean you're really studying deception?"

"I study people -- I try to find the things they aren't telling," Sherlock said. "Either because they're trying to deceive others . . . or themselves."

"Oh." John looked away quickly. "What are you going to do?"

Sherlock grabbed John's arm and said, "Here -- watch my face closely." He swallowed. "I am going to go have lunch with my friend. Now tell me -- I am telling you the truth or am I deceiving you?"

John stared at Sherlock. "I don't know," he said, studying Sherlock's face. He couldn't focus, his mind kept drifting as he looked over Sherlock's high cheek bones and perfect mouth. 

"No, I mean . . . give me an answer," Sherlock said, trying to keep his face from revealing as much as John's did. "If you say yes, I'll go have my lunch with my new friend. If you say no, I'll go home and be all on my own for the rest of the day."

John opened and closed his mouth as he realised that he was the friend. He swallowed and nodded. "Yes," he said.

"All right," Sherlock said. "So I'm not a liar then." He smiled. 

John shook his head. This guy was very odd, but John was intrigued.

"Where do you want to go?" Sherlock asked. "You look like you like to eat."

"Wha--no more than the next person," John said, touching his stomach in mock offense.

"I mean for your sport -- you play sport, don't you?" Sherlock asked.

"I play rugby, yeah," he nodded. "How did you know?"

Sherlock paused for a moment and then said, "Well, look at you -- you look like you're athletic. And rugby doesn't surprise me . . . if you're such a brute that heartbreak means nothing to you, you must be quite tough."

"I didn't say it was nothing. I just don't want to talk about that," John said. "I need to pack up my things." He moved around Sherlock and went back to his table.

Sherlock filed that information as he followed John to his table. "Italian?" he asked.

John nodded. "That's fine with me."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Let's go." He led them down the stairwell and out of the library. John pointedly avoided looking at Megan's table as he followed Sherlock outside. 

Once they got outside, Sherlock lit up a cigarette and, after offering one to John, asked, "So what's your family like then?"

John shook his head at the cigarette and shrugged at Sherlock's question. "It's just my mum and my sister. I don't talk to her much since she ran away a few years ago."

"Interesting," Sherlock said. "I have one brother who is not interesting. And a mother and a father." He glanced over. "What was your paper on anyway?"

"The Krebs cycle and its importance in different bodily functions," he said. 

"You're smart then, I see," Sherlock said. "I mean, it sounds a bit boring, so I presume it must be smart -- people often get those two words confused when they talk about me."

"You're smart too, I know that from your paper," he said.

"I am," Sherlock said. "I hope you don't find me boring as well."

"I don't," John said. He glanced over at Sherlock, trying to think of something to talk about. "You didn't have any plans today?"

"I did, but I can just do it later," Sherlock said, pulling open the door at Angelo's and letting John go through.

They were led to the small table by the window. The place had a romantic feel to it, but John supposed that's because it was an Italian restaurant. "Have you been here a lot?"

"I know the man who owns it so he never charges me," Sherlock said, taking a seat. "There's no reason to spend money if there's no reason to spend money, I suppose."

John looked around again and nodded. "That's nice of him. Is he a family friend?"

"No, I've just known him a long time," Sherlock said. "What are your plans for the rest of the day then?"

"Probably still looking for a stool," John smiled. "Finishing the essay, perfecting it, and then going back to my room."

"Not going out tonight?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. "There's nothing on this weekend," he said.

Sherlock wondered what John's answer would have been had they met last weekend. Angelo brought the food over, and Sherlock fiddled with his for a few moments before taking a bite. He glanced over and saw John tucking in. "Everything taste okay?" he asked.

John flushed lightly and forced himself to show down. "I skipped breakfast," he said sheepishly. "It's really good."

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression earlier -- I don't care how much you eat. I'm glad you're enjoying it," Sherlock said. "I don't eat a lot and I suppose I'm used to people hassling me about it, so my comments might have come out the wrong way." He took a bite of food. "I'm quite good at that . . . saying things the wrong way."

"I won't harass you. Not until I'm a doctor and it actually means something," John grinned.

Sherlock frowned. "We'll see about that," he said as he took another small bite. He glanced up at John again. Maybe Sherlock wasn't always good at communicating, but he was good at reading people, and he could read that John was interested. Which worked well because, although it was rather unusual, Sherlock was also interested. "So, am I right in thinking you're glad we met?"

John looked up and smiled. "Yeah, sure."

"And you're not just planning to befriend me to try to trick me into looking over your paper for you?" Sherlock asked, smiling back.

John made a face as if he'd been caught red handed and then laughed at himself. "No. Though if we're really friends, you should offer to do so regardless."

"I'm quite particular about my friends," Sherlock said. "I need some more information before I start offering favours as complicated as paper editing. Book retrieval is one thing but editing is much more involved."

"Oh right, of course," John said seriously.

"Do you mind if I ask a few questions then?" Sherlock said. "To gather knowledge before I make my final decision?"

John shifted in his seat. "Okay, sure."

"Could you give me an estimate of how many hours a week you spend doing sports-related activities?" Sherlock asked.

"Um . . . probably fifteen," John said. "That's not counting matches."

"I see," Sherlock said as he rubbed his finger against the tablecloth as if he were taking notes. "And how many hours on coursework -- classes and homework combined, please?"

John took a moment to think about his classes and his homework. "Um . . . maybe around 30 or 40?"

"And your average night's sleep is how long?" Sherlock asked.

"Like six hours. Sorry, but what's this all have to do with us being friends?"

"There are 168 hours in the week," Sherlock said. "I'm just wondering if you have time in your busy schedule for a new friend." He smile a little at the word.

John smiled so wide it made him flush and he looked down at his plate. "I do," he said. "I promise."

Sherlock looked over at John. "I can tell you're being honest," he said. He took a few more bites and then set his fork on it. Angelo noticed and came over. "Can I get you two anything else?" he asked.

"Want anything else?" Sherlock asked John.

"Oh no, I'm okay," John said. "Thanks."

"We're good, Angelo, thanks," Sherlock said, moving to get out his wallet. Angelo held up his hands and shook his head, insisting it was on the house. Sherlock thanked him again as he left the table.

John was holding his wallet as well. "What about mine?" he asked Sherlock, opening it up.

Sherlock shook his head. "He never charges me and I never bring anyone else with me, so I don't think he'd mind extended his generosity to my new friend," he said.

John hesitated a moment longer before putting his wallet away. "Okay. So . . . what now?"

Sherlock made a move to stand up. "I should probably get going," he said. "And you've got that essay to finish . . ."

John stood as well. "Okay, yeah," he nodded. He patted his pocket. "Can I have your number?" he asked, feeling his face warm again.

Sherlock pulled his phone out of his pocket as they walked out of the door. "Give me yours and I'll text you," he said.

John recited the number, watching Sherlock's hand as his thumb moved quickly.

Sherlock leaned back against the brick of the empty shop next to Angelo's as he waited for John to check his phone.

_I enjoyed lunch. SH_

John opened the message and smiled. "I enjoyed lunch, too."

Sherlock looked up and saw John's smile. He smiled back and pushed himself off the wall so they were closer. "If you want me to proofread your essay or anything, just give me a call," he said.

"Oh, we're at that level already?" John teased.

"I think so," Sherlock said, leaning down to kiss John's mouth.

It happened so quickly John could hardly process it. Suddenly, Sherlock was moving closer and John turned away. "I --" John stuttered as he looked down and cleared his throat. "I should go. I'll see you." Without looking up, he hurried off towards the residence hall.

Sherlock stood and watch John run off. He was sure he'd read him right. He'd seen that look on other men's faces and he'd always known what it meant. Could this guy have proved him wrong? He noticed Angelo through the front window and wondered if he'd seen what had happened. He turned quickly, pulled out a cigarette and lit it, smoking as he walked back to his empty flat.

Once he got back, John leaned against the door, his mind racing. He knew something had felt . . . like that. He knew it in the library when Sherlock had followed him to chat. John had assumed he was just imagining things, a left over wish from his recent break up. He swallowed hard and moved to his bed. 

Sherlock wasn't the first boy John had felt something like that for. He'd always just ignored it. It was never anything real, just a crush or a passing thought. Now, though, he remembered Sherlock moving closer, and his cheeks flushed as his stomach flipped violently. This would have to be just a passing thought as well. 

Back at his flat, Sherlock was staring stupidly at the homepage on his laptop. He'd opened but hadn't read a thing, because he couldn't get past the fact he'd made such a glaring error. Of course, sometimes in the past he'd missed flirtatious comments or longing looks -- his brother had actually been the one to point it out to Sherlock the first time it'd happened. But now he knew the signs. How could he have got things so wrong today?

Unless . . . maybe he hadn't.

Maybe John had been just as interested as Sherlock. Maybe that wasn't the issue at all. John had said he'd just broken up with his last boyfriend. Maybe it was the timing that had been wrong.

Yes, that had to be it. Because Sherlock Holmes was never wrong about things.


	2. Another Meeting

John spent the rest of the afternoon finishing his paper and toying with the idea of texting Sherlock. But he knew first he'd have to have an answer ready in case Sherlock brought up the failed kiss attempt. Could he feign ignorance or would Sherlock see through that? He would just have to explain his preference was girls. Most of the time -- well, not really -- a passing thought didn't mean anything. He sighed and rubbed his face hard. He did want to be friends with Sherlock.

_My paper is done. -JW_

Sherlock was on his bed, away in his head, when the vibration of his phone brought him back. He read the text. Surely, this must mean he'd been right. If John had been outraged, he wouldn't be texting him. John did seem like the polite, kind type, but if he wasn't interested at all, he wouldn't be texting in the first place. Sherlock hit reply and thought carefully about his words. John's text was fairly neutral with no mention of what had happened, so perhaps his should follow that lead.

_I'm glad. I've no doubt it will be used in future classes as an example for others to aspire to. SH_

He read it again and decided that it'd work. He hit Send.

_I doubt it but I appreciate your faith in me. -JW_

Sherlock smiled at the response.

_If you need any more books retrieving, you know where to find me. SH_

_I thought we could hang out again. Without books. If you want. -JW_

Sherlock thought carefully again.

_All right. Anytime. You're welcome to come here or we could meet. Whatever you want. SH_

There, Sherlock thought. That leaves everything wide open without making things uncomfortable. Hopefully.

_Where's here? Do you live on campus? -JW_

_I have a flat in town. Not far from the restaurant. I'll send a link with directions. SH_

Sherlock attached a map and hit Send.

John bit his lip.

_Do you mean I can come now? -JW_

_As I said, anything you want. I don't have much food in, but we can order something if you'd like. SH_

Sherlock sat up as he hit Send, but then thought again.

_To clarify, that remark was meant to be friendly, not judgmental. SH_

John bit his lip and felt a bit like he might be intruding now. They already had lunch together. Overdoing it would be weird.

_I'll let you relax. We can meet tomorrow again. -JW_

Sherlock frowned and cursed his appalling social skills.

_If you'd prefer. I'm in all night and all of tomorrow as well. Text me if you'd like to come over. SH_

Sherlock read it over five times and then hit Send.

_Okay. I have practice tomorrow but I can come by after. -JW_

_I look forward to it, John. Enjoy your evening. SH_

John opened his mouth and closed it.

_Okay, see you. -JW_

Okay, John thought. So tomorrow they would hang out like friends and there would be no kissing. He ignored the small spike of disappointment as he opened his book and went back to reading.

Sherlock set his phone on the desk and then stood up. He wished John had been willing to come over this evening. Why, though? In truth he didn't really know this guy at all. Why had he invited him out to lunch? Why had he flirted -- however badly -- with him? Why did he try to kiss John? It had actually all been quite risky for Sherlock. He rarely opened himself up so quickly to anyone. A little more time was probably a good idea. He went back to his desk, opened his laptop and got to work.

John fell asleep with the book over his face and woke up confused. He got up and started his day, looking over his paper before getting ready for practice. He toyed with his phone for a long time before working up his nerve.

_I'm thinking I'll come by around 4. -JW_

Sherlock was back at the library when he felt his phone vibrated against his leg. He'd tried to convince himself not to be eager -- his brother had started a text argument last night and every time Sherlock's phone went, he'd been hoping it was John. However, he was quite pleased when he saw John's name and his words.

_That is convenient. I'm at the library but will head back in time. Could I ask what the W stands for? SH_

_Watson. Sorry I forgot to tell you that. -JW_

_It's all right, John Watson. I'll see you later. SH_

Sherlock slid his phone back into his pocket and went back to reading. He had a smile on his face.

John was a bit distracted during practice and got knocked around pretty hard. By the time it was over he had a glorious bruised eye and was sore all over. He took a shower and dressed with a bit more care than usual before sending Sherlock a quick text and heading over. He knocked and stepped back to wait, looking up and down the street.

When Sherlock got back, he'd tried to do a little tidying of both his self and the flat (he was less successful at tidying the flat). When he got John's text, he put the kettle on. He sat down on the sofa and then wondered if the chair would be better and then the kettle was boiling, but he didn't pour anything yet. He stood at the window for a few moments, and then closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths to calm himself and then got up to answer John's knock. He smiled without thinking. "Hello, John Watson," he said, stepping to the side to invite him in.

"I forgot to ask if you needed anything, sorry," John said quickly.

"What do you mean? Oh, you mean like wine or something? Well, I'll forgive your rudeness," Sherlock said, making sure his voice seemed light. He clicked the kettle back on.

John looked around the flat but stayed in the kitchen with Sherlock. "I'll make up for it next time," he smiled.

"It's fine," Sherlock mumbled. He turned round and asked, "Do you take sugar?"

John shook his head. "Just milk, please."

Sherlock handed John a mug and then took a sip of his own. "Well, this is where I live, I suppose," he said and moved into the other room. "I work in here and sleep in there and bathe in there," he added as he motioned towards doors. "That's it really." He sat down on his chair without really thinking about a strategy.

"It's really nice," John sat in the chair opposite Sherlock and sipped his tea.

"So . . . your paper, it turned out all right?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah," John nodded. "It's all done and ready to be turned in. I was teasing about the editing, you really don't have to do that."

"You don't have any more work to do this evening?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I'm all done for the day," John said. "Do you?"

"It's hard to say," Sherlock said. "I'm working on a project and waiting for some information. It's a bit top-secret." He glanced at his desk. "Do you want to hear about it?"

"Am I allowed to?" John asked, sounding intrigued and excited.

Sherlock looked serious for a moment. "Can I trust you?" he asked quietly.

John met his gaze and nodded.

"Are you willing to sign a blood pact?" Sherlock asked, equally seriously, before breaking into a wide grin. "I'm kidding," he said. "It's just that there have been some thefts from one of the science labs and I'm trying to find out why and who. Well, I've been asked to help with the who, but I'm more interested in the why."

John smiled. "Hmm. Do you have any leads? I'm down there a lot, I could look for clues or whatever."

"Here," Sherlock said, getting up and moving over to his desk to grab some papers. "Here's what I've got so far. If you want to look at the dates of the thefts, you might see something I wouldn't see since I don't know much about campus activities. I've been trying to find out what the chemicals might be used for, but I'm waiting for some info from a chemist I know back home."

John looked through the notes. "I don't remember anything from those days," he offered. "But I can start looking out for things now."

"I thought you might think it was boring," Sherlock said. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do."

"It's not boring. It's exciting."

"It is," Sherlock said. "I guess this is kind of what I'd like to do after uni. I've done a couple things already -- helping my brother. I'm glad you don't think it's stupid."

"What kind of stuff did you help with?" John asked.

Sherlock looked over. John seemed to actually be interested. "I figured out how someone was poisoned," he said.

"Really?" John asked. He leaned forward, eager to hear more.

"Well, when I say someone, I mean . . . a dog, but still. It belonged to a diplomat," Sherlock said. "The gardener did it. It wasn't international terrorism or anything." He finished his tea.

John was still grinning. "That's amazing, Sherlock!"

Sherlock knew John wasn't lying. "Thanks," he mumbled, looking down at the floor. "I think most people find me tedious." He looked over at John again. "I'm glad you don't."

"Well, those people are stupid," John said simply.

"You're not, though, are you? I'm glad," Sherlock said. "I don't have a lot of friends so . . . I'm glad we met."

John leaned back again. "I'm glad we met too," he said.

"Well, look," Sherlock said. "As soon as I hear back from my contact, I'll let you know but take that sheet with the dates and maybe you could think about it overnight, see if you can come up with anything that might explain the pattern of break ins." He stood up and moved back to his chair. "Unless, of course, you're the responsible party," he said. "It appears you've got up to some mischief in the last twenty-four hours."

John tilted his head and then remembered his eye. "Oh! That's from rugby practice today. I wasn't focusing properly."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked.

John met his gaze and then looked away quickly. "I don't know. It happens sometimes," he said.

"Should you get it checked out?" Sherlock said. "I mean, if you're going to be helping me out with this project, your mind should be clear. Maybe you have a concussion."

"No, I'm fine," John smiled. "It's just a black eye."

"You're a bit of a brute, aren't you?" Sherlock asked, smiling slyly.

John smiled. "No. I just play hard," he said.

"Well, that could come in handy, I suppose," Sherlock said. "So what do you fancy doing now?"

John shrugged. "I didn't have a real plan coming over. I just wanted to . . ." He trailed off before he added _to see you_. That might sound a bit odd though, so instead he just added, "I'm sorry I'm not more exciting."

"John," Sherlock said. "I've just admitted that most people find me tedious and you said I was amazing. That is the most exciting thing that's happened to me this week and you were the cause of it, so don't be like that." He shifted a little in his chair. "I guess I was asking if you wanted to get dinner or something, but I was worried about asking because of what I said yesterday."

John looked at his mug again and decided to feign ignorance for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Well, at least that confirmed John's kindness, Sherlock thought, pretending Sherlock hadn't made about John's appetite. "Just -- do you want to get some food or not?" he said as he grabbed a pencil from the table and threw it playfully at John.

"Yeah, okay," John nodded. He threw the pencil back and smiled.

"Where do you want to go?" Sherlock asked, moving to stand up. "I can't provide free meals at all restaurants, I'm afraid."

"I can treat," John said. "I know a little cafe that has a bit of everything."

"I'll pay for my own," Sherlock said. "Since I didn't actually treat you to anything yesterday."

"I want to treat you," John said. "And you didn't treat yesterday, that guy did. I'll pay."

Did John think this was a date? Sherlock wondered. He wasn't sure, but he hoped he did. "All right," he said. "I'm not going to fight you over it since you'd look terrible with two black eyes. Besides, it's pretty obvious I'd lose in the end anyway."  
  
John grinned. "Good, I'm glad this thing is doing something for me."

"Should we go now?" Sherlock said. He looked at the clock. "It's a bit early but we can come back here afterwards . . .unless you'd rather just go home when we're done."

"No, I'd like to come back, I mean, I don't have to go home."

"All right then," Sherlock said, picking up the mugs and taking them to the sink. "Let's go then."

John led the way out, keeping close to Sherlock as he led the way to the cafe. Once they got there, Sherlock studied the menu closely. If John was going to be paying, he'd need to choose something that he could definitely eat all of. He narrowed it down to a salad, hoping it wasn't one of the ridiculously large ones. "Would you mind if I got a glass of wine?" he asked John.

"I don't mind. Get anything you like," John encouraged.

Sherlock got a glass with his salad and looked around the room as John ordered. It was a nice place, though filled mostly with students which wasn't quite to Sherlock's taste. In comparison to them, John was so much more handsome and interesting.

After John ordered he started asking more about Sherlock, about his family and where he grew up, about his flat and how he got lucky to have one on his own in such a nice spot. John watched him speak, noting when he got excited and his blue eyes brightened. He felt like he couldn't look away. As they talked, John realised he never really felt anything like this before, not even with Megan. This was different. The thought startled him, and he forced his focus to his plate of food.

Sherlock couldn't deny he quite enjoyed John's continued use of the word amazing as he listened to Sherlock talk. But he also enjoyed hearing John's stories as well. He should have known to trust himself: there was something that had pulled him towards John, despite their obvious differences, and now Sherlock could see what that was. John was smart and interesting and engaging. Their conversation was one of the best he'd had in a long time.

When they'd finished dinner and denied dessert, John paid and asked if Sherlock wanted to walk for a little while. They made their way towards Sherlock's flat slowly.

Sherlock unlocked the door and moved over to the kettle. "Tea?" he asked.

"Okay, sure," John nodded. He moved to the sofa, surprised how comfortable he felt already.

Sherlock carried two mugs in, handing one to John as he sat down next to him. "Thanks again for dinner," he said, taking a sip. "It was good."

John smiled. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Do you hang out with your friends there a lot?"

John shrugged. "Sometimes. Mostly at someone's house because they like to drink and have girls over."

"Sounds a bit boring," Sherlock said, taking another drink. "I mean, you might like all that . . ."

John shrugged again. "It's fun sometimes. They do it a lot -- not do _it_ , I mean, they party a lot," he said quickly.

"I'm not much of a party-goer, which I presume appears obvious," Sherlock admitted.

"I don't understand. I think you're a lot of fun," John said.

"Well, thanks," Sherlock said, shifting a little on the sofa to face John more. "So what fun thing should we do now?"

John glanced over at him and shrugged again. He took a sip of his tea. "I don't know. Want to watch a film or something?"

"Sure," Sherlock said. He got up and reached for the remote, bringing it back and handing it to John. "You can choose."  
  
John flicked through the channels. "What kind of stuff do you like?" He asked.

"Mostly documentaries, if I'm honest," Sherlock said. "But choose whatever you like and I'll veto if I don't think I'll be able to sit through it." He looked over and smiled.

John nodded and kept looking until he found an old comedy he used to watch with Harry.

"I'll give this a try," Sherlock said, getting a little more comfortable. "I'll be honest with you -- I'm a bit picky but if we're going to be friends, you'll find that out soon enough."  
  
"That's okay," John said. "I'm easy going enough."

"That phrase could never be used about me, I'm afraid," Sherlock said. He looked over. "Comfortable?"

John nodded. He moved and put his tea on the table and then leaned back and nodded again.

"It's nice having you here," Sherlock mumbled a little as he looked over at the television. "Not many people come over, I guess."

John shifted very subtly. "I like hanging out with you."

"I like it too," Sherlock said. His voice was softer, but he wasn't sure why. He moved a little closer to John.

John's tensed as he felt Sherlock move closer, unwilling to decide if it was nerves or anticipation. Sherlock sensed John's reaction so he didn't move any closer and just did his best to pretend he was entirely engrossed in this film even though he had literally no idea what it was about.

John glanced at Sherlock, swallowing hard before looking at the telly again. Then at Sherlock again. "Do you like it?"

Sherlock thought long and hard about what was happening. He'd had a good time this evening, and he knew John had too. Okay, maybe, he'd just broken up with someone, but no one could deny there was something going on here. Sherlock turned his head and said, "I like you." He leaned over to kiss John.

John's hand came up to Sherlock's chest. "I don't -- no, I mean I do but not like that," he rambled quickly. The words sounded wrong to his own ears. They _were_ wrong, but he wouldn't admit that.

Sherlock moved away quickly and then stood up. "Go then," he said. He didn't understand why it seemed John was deliberately confusing him -- flirting and then shutting things down. "Wait," he said and then moved over to his chair. He looked at John who was doing his best not to look at Sherlock. "You're not telling the truth -- I want to know why," he said. "What about him?"

John had stood quickly and then stopped when Sherlock told him to wait. "Who?"

"The guy you broke up with . . . I thought that's why you . . ." Sherlock's voice trailed off as he tried to figure out exactly what was going on here.

"I wasn't dating a guy. I'm not -- I was dating a girl," he said, changing his wording half way through.

"But --" Sherlock started and then he too stopped. He sat down for a moment and held his head in his hands as he tried to think. Fine, he'd got that detail wrong. But could he also have been so wrong about John's interest in him? He sat up and said, "Could you sit down for a minute? I don't like being confused and right now I am confused."

John moved and sat on the edge of the sofa, watching Sherlock. Had Sherlock picked up what was different about him? John never told anyone, he was still working it out himself. He stayed quiet, waiting.

Sherlock looked over. "I know when people are lying, John," he said calmly. "You're not telling the truth . . . not the whole truth. You aren't obliged to really -- you don't owe me anything." He swallowed roughly. "But I'm right, aren't I?"

John looked at him for a long moment and he knew that Sherlock knew. Sherlock knew John's biggest secret. He looked down and shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

Sherlock knew that was a yes. He got up and put the kettle on, and then returned to pick up the mugs. He poured fresh tea and brought it back into the sitting room. He set one on the table and sat back in his chair. "I don't know you very well . . . you don't know me very well either really," he said. "But if there's something you need to say aloud, I'll listen if you want me to."

John fiddled with his hands for a long time, saying the words to himself first. _I like boys and girls._ He took a deep breath. "I like boys and girls," he said quietly.

"Is that the first time you've ever said that aloud?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "I don't know, though . . . I've never -- I've never tried that way."

"You've never kissed a boy?" Sherlock asked.

John flushed and shook his head.

"But you think you might like to?"

John shrugged but he glanced up at Sherlock, at his mouth.

"Well, I have kissed a boy," Sherlock said. "I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have."

"I know how," John said a bit defensively. He was embarrassed.

Sherlock softened his face. "Then what makes you so worried about it?" he asked.

"I don't know," John murmured. "I just . . . it's different."

"Do you mean the mechanics of it are different or do you mean . . . you don't like thinking that you might want to?"

"No! Just . . . I don't know. Maybe. It makes me nervous," John said.

"Maybe it's just because you've never done it," Sherlock offered. "Maybe once you do, you won't feel nervous anymore."

John looked over at Sherlock. "Maybe," he said. Maybe Sherlock was right, and he really was just worried about what that would mean if he liked it.

Sherlock took a long sip of tea and then shifted in his chair. "Can I ask you one more thing?" he asked.

John nodded, keeping his eyes on Sherlock.

"Have you thought that you might want to kiss me?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, after you tried the first time," John admitted.

Sherlock was pleased -- both with the fact that John fancied him and the fact he'd been right about John fancying him. But he didn't let on. Instead he said, "Well, obviously you know I've thought that I'd like to kiss you so I suppose what I'm saying is if you ever decide to give it a try, I hope you'll consider me." He tipped the rest of his tea into his mouth and then sat forward. "Should we finish watching your film now?"

"You -- do you want to try again?" John asked softly, biting his lip as he looked at Sherlock. There had to be a first time so why not now?

Sherlock moved over to the sofa and then looked at John. "Only if you really want to," he said softly. "I really don't like very many people, John, but I do like you. If you're not really interested in that kind of thing with me or if you just want to try it and then move on, I don't want to do it." He moved a little closer. "However, if you think there might be a possibility of something . . . with me, I mean, then yes, I would like to try again."

John looked at Sherlock, holding his gaze. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I feel like I like you in that way, but I don't really know what that means or how to . . . be like that, I guess." He felt so stupid. He took a deep breath and rambled into an explanation. "I just recently broke up with the only girl I've ever dated seriously. I mean, I couldn't even do that right . . . but this just feels different than with her."

"It is different in some ways," Sherlock said. "I mean, some things that could happen might be different. But kissing is probably not all that different. I'm sure you'll be quite good at it." He looked down at his hands. "In truth, though, you should probably know that I am quite different. I'm probably not like anyone you've met -- boy or girl -- and I'm not saying that in a good way. I'll tell you right now that I am quite stubborn and awkward in public and I spend a lot of time in my head and I often speak before I think or even as I'm thinking and then sometimes I don't speak at all. I don't want to kiss you just because you're a boy. And if you're going to kiss me, you should know that that's who you'll be kissing. Me, Sherlock. Who happens to be the same sex as you."

"Well, I like you. I know I like you and I just have this block -- I've never liked a boy like this and . . ." John shrugged.

Sherlock leaned back a little and put his feet up on the table. "Let's watch the rest of the film, yeah?" he said. "I'm glad we talked. I don't want you to do anything until you're sure."

John wanted to kiss Sherlock, but he also knew there was a chance he would panic and overthink it and decide that was enough experimenting for him. With Sherlock having admitted that he didn't want this unless John was serious, he had no choice but to sit back as well and turn to the film. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Thank you for telling me the truth," Sherlock said. He reached over and held John's hand. "Is this okay?" he said quietly.

John nodded, noticing the difference in Sherlock's hand. It was bigger than Megan's, his long, slender fingers fitting easily between John's own. Sherlock let out a long breath and turned his attention to the television. He had no idea what was going on in the film, but he didn't really care.

"So you've had a boyfriend before?" John asked.

"Not really," Sherlock said. "Not in the way you mean, I think."

"What do you mean?" John asked, looking over at him.

"I mean . . . well, you don't have to be in a relationship to _be_ with someone . . ." Sherlock said, letting go of John's hand. "I might have some experiences you don't have, but you've got some I don't have, I guess is what I'm trying to say."

John figured Sherlock was talking about one night stands, and he flushed lightly. He didn't seem to want that from John. That was a good thing. John didn't want to be used for physical things, just like Sherlock didn't want to be used for John's curiosity. "I see," he said, his voice neutral.

Sherlock sat himself forward. "I'm going to make another cup of tea," he said. "Do you want one?"

"No, I'm okay," John said. He had questions but he couldn't make himself ask. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know the answers. He watched Sherlock in the kitchen, looking over his body, before shifting his eyes away quickly.

Sherlock came back with his mug, carrying a packet of biscuits as well. "Here you go," he said. "This is the extent of my hospitality, by the way."

John took the biscuits and smiled. "You've really out done yourself."

Sherlock smiled. "John," he said. "I've got to admit something -- I've not paid attention at all to this film."

John laughed. "Shame on you. How will you pass the test?"

"I didn't realise there was going to be a test," Sherlock said. "You should have warned me."

"Hmm, you're not the only one that needs to thoroughly filter friends," he teased.

"Should I just keep staring at the screen, pretending that I'm paying attention?" Sherlock asked, as he broke off a piece of biscuit and popped into his mouth.

"You could actually pay attention," John suggested, still smiling.

"I'll try," Sherlock said.

John looked back at the telly. He swallowed nervously. "Do you want to go on a date?"

"Tonight wasn't a date?"

John flushed lightly. "I just meant like something proper."

"Sure," Sherlock said. "I'd like that."

"We can have dinner some place nice. I'll pick you up and . . .and all of that. That's okay?"

"I think so," Sherlock said. "I'll give it my best shot."

"It's the same thing, right? I mean, I know how to go on a date with a girl," John said stupidly.

"Well, arm wrestling is required, but that's probably the only difference," Sherlock said.

John flushed darker, but he smiled and pushed Sherlock's arm. "Shut up," he grumbled.

Sherlock reached out and held John's hand. "Look, I might try to make a joke, but if you have a question like that, I hope you will ask," he said.

John nodded. "I feel stupid. I don't know why I'm making such a thing about it." He looked at Sherlock. "Did you always know you liked boys? Have you ever liked a girl?"

"Don't feel stupid -- I might have questions for you and I hope you'll let me ask," Sherlock said. "I suppose I have always known. I've never been interested in women."

"I wish I was sure like that," John admitted. "I just . . . I know liking both is a real thing, and some people have preferences. I know I've always pushed off whatever crushes I had on boys and just chosen to pursue girls. I can't help but separate the two, as if it's two different worlds instead of just what or who I like."

Sherlock wasn't quite sure what to say. He finished a biscuit and said, "Maybe you should worry less about it -- maybe just like whoever you like, I mean."

"I know but . . ." John sighed. "Everyone knows I was with Megan and then they will see me with you and ask too many questions and how do I explain? No one will even believe me," he said.

Sherlock looked over quickly. "Why will they see me?" he asked.

John tilted his head. "We go to the same university. We'll spend time together, around other people, I mean," he said. He didn't mention that if they were dating properly, he'd like Sherlock to come to his games when he played and study with him in the library and meet his friends.

"Right, yeah, I see," Sherlock said. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle that, but he didn't have to decide at this moment.

"I know you said being social isn't really your thing. . ."

"It's fine," Sherlock said. He sat quietly for a moment. "Should we hold hands again?"

John reached over and took Sherlock's hand. He looked at them for a moment before looking up at Sherlock and smiling.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand and then reached for the remote. "Let's watch the news, all right?" he asked.

"Okay," John said. Sherlock could have asked him to watch paint dry, and at this point, he would have agreed.

Sherlock watched the news, paying close attention to the crime stories and greatly enjoying the touch of John's hand in his. When it finished, he said, "It's getting late. I don't want to keep you up all night if you've got things to do tomorrow."  
  
"I do have class in the morning. Want to have dinner around seven?"

"I'd like that," Sherlock said. "Should we meet somewhere or do you want to come here to pick me up?"  
  
"I can come by so we can walk together," John said.

"That sound good," Sherlock said. "And you'll choose the restaurant?"

John nodded. "I already know where we're going, but I'll leave it a surprise," he smiled.

"Will something like this be all right or will I need a tuxedo?" Sherlock asked. "Because I can tell you right now, I don't own a tuxedo."

"No, that will be fine," John laughed.

"Do you want me to walk you back to your room?" Sherlock asked, moving to stand up.

John shook his head. "No, it's too far, I mean, no, it's okay." He stood as well and made his way to the door.

Sherlock walked with him. "I'm glad we got to see each other," he said. "And talk."

John looked up at Sherlock. "I'm sorry about how I acted . . .this side is new to me and I'm glad you were . . .well, you were really nice about it and I'm glad."

"I like you, John -- I don't even know why -- I mean, I just do, okay, and being nice and all, well, that's new to me as well," Sherlock said. "So I'm just glad things went as they did."

John nodded. He knew there was still a part of him that might protest the whole thing and decide that, whatever his crushes are, his preference was girls. He didn't tell Sherlock though. He liked Sherlock a lot and he wanted this to work, so he wasn't going to bring on added stress. He would wait and see what happened. Hopefully, whatever the case, Sherlock wouldn't hate him.

"I'll see you tomorrow," John said. He hesitated, unsure how to leave, so he gave Sherlock a quick hug. "Bye."

The hug was so fast Sherlock didn't have a chance to respond, but he was definitely left with a warm feeling as he said goodbye and watched John head home.


	3. A Date

John was walking very quickly, his nerves and adrenaline from the conversation finally breaking free. He hasn't realised he was holding them back so tightly until he was running home, breathing heavy and playing the conversation in his head over and over again. He'd said it, he finally admitted the thought always floating in his head. It wasn't a disaster, not like he imagined it would be. But Sherlock was different to so did it count? And what if he had to end things? Sherlock would hate him for sure for even starting anything. But wasn't that all relationships? You went in and hoped for the best.

Maybe this was going to be like every other time.

Sherlock checked his email and then lay down on the sofa. This evening had been quite unusual. He hadn't expected some of what had happened. This included the fact that he and John had had a honest conversation. Sherlock usually wasn't very good at conversations, but the one tonight felt all right. Good even. This was even more evidence that John was someone who wasn't like anyone else Sherlock had met. He fell asleep on the sofa thinking of this and woke up a few hours later, making his way to bed to think about it some more. 

In the morning John called the restaurant to make a reservation before going to class. He didn't have practice today, which was good because now the black eye was slightly faded, and he didn't need another one for their date. Once he got home, he took a long shower and took too long to pick an outfit. He didn't think Sherlock would care about that sort of thing, but he wanted to do this right. Right before he left, he sent Sherlock a text saying he was on his way.

Sherlock let himself sleep in and had been working as he waited for seven o'clock to arrive. He showered and shaved and got dressed and was feeling decidedly eager when he got John's text.

_I'm ready. SH_

When John arrived, he knocked and then stepped back, waiting for Sherlock.

Sherlock opened the door. John looked so handsome. "You look handsome," Sherlock said stupidly. "Come in."

John went inside and smiled nervously at Sherlock. "You do too -- you look good," he said.

"Your day all right?" Sherlock asked, but stood standing near the door. "Should we go or are we staying here or should we go?" He had no idea why his brain wasn't sending clear thoughts to his mouth.

"We should go so we don't miss the reservation," John said.

"Okay," Sherlock said, grabbing his stuff and locking the door behind them. "Is it very far?"

"A few minutes, we can take a cab if you like," he said.

"Let's walk -- unless you're worried about someone seeing us," Sherlock said, glancing over.

"No! No, I'm not worried," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said, giving him a smile.

John waited until they were walking for a bit before taking Sherlock's hand. He felt exposed, like everyone was watching them, but in reality no one looked twice. John glanced at Sherlock and smiled.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand. "Thank you," he said. "So, this place you're taking me -- any particular reason you chose it?"

John shook his head. "It's just kind of posh," he smiled.

"Clearly you must know you've already impressed me," Sherlock said. "I hope I can behave myself in this place," he added with a laugh.

"You don't have to behave on my account," John smiled.

"You say that now," Sherlock said. "But only because you have no idea how badly behaved I can be."

"Well now, I'm just curious to see," John grinned. 

Sherlock smiled as he looked over at John. He looked incredibly handsome in the low light. "Much farther?" he asked.

"Just around the corner here," he said. They came up to a building with small balconies all around, just big enough to fit a table for two.

"Posh indeed," Sherlock said, moving in and sitting down. "John, this seems expensive -- should I pay for my own?"

"No," John said. "It's fine, I promise. It's mostly looks," he teased. "The food is really good, and the prices aren't too high. Get whatever you want, okay?"

"All right," Sherlock said, looking over the menu. He tried to find something that wasn't too expensive but wasn't too large either, so he would be able to finish it all.

John smiled and looked over his own menu, picking a bottle of wine to order as well. "Did you have a good day?"

"I did," Sherlock said. "I did some coursework and then a bit more research about the thefts . . . I'm still waiting on that information -- I can't figure out why they're taking what they're taking."

"I wasn't in the science building today, but I'll keep a look out," John promised. "I didn't forget."

"Good," Sherlock said. He looked around the place and then the server appeared, taking their orders. Once he'd left, Sherlock asked, "Did you think more about the things we talked about last night?"

John took a sip of his water and nodded. "I'm just afraid I'm going to disappoint you or hurt you," he said.

"You mean punch me?" Sherlock asked.

"No!" John shook his head quickly. "Emotionally, I mean, because I'm still figuring it all out."

"I know . . . I was trying to make a joke," Sherlock said quietly. "I don't want you to hurt me either," he added. "There's only one way to avoid that, you know."

John looked at Sherlock, his brows raised as he waited for the answer.

"Tell me the truth," Sherlock said. "I don't want to date or . . . anything with someone who doesn't tell me the truth."

"I'm not going to lie to you," John said. "I don't want this to look like an experiment or something. It's not -- that's not what I want."

"Good," Sherlock said. "It's not what I want either." The server brought the bottle of wine over and poured two glasses. When he left, Sherlock picked up his and took a sip. "I don't want to hurt you either," he said. "Any guidance you can give to me to avoid that?"

"Just be patient with me, I guess. And trust me," he said, sipping his own wine.

"I'll work on the first one," Sherlock said. "But trust is earned -- we both need to earn it from each other." He smiled. "The wine's nice -- good choice."

John smiled. "I'm glad you like it, I'm not always good at picking."

"John, would you say you are a confident person in general?" Sherlock asked, looking over at him closely.

"Usually, about stuff that I know," he said. "I don't have wine a lot."

"What's something you feel very confident about?"

"Biology. Rugby. Food," he smiled.

"Well, rugby sounds boring to me, and biology might be too dangerous at this point," Sherlock said. "Tell me about the food you ordered and why you ordered it."

"Well, I ordered a pasta dish because that's my favourite anywhere. There's veggies and meat and a creamy sauce, but not a lot of it so it's not heavy."

"And is it a healthy meal or was your motivation primarily taste?" Sherlock asked.

"Taste. The veggies ease my conscience about the health aspect," John smiled.

"That all seems well informed and logical," Sherlock said. "I like your confidence. You're . . . handsome when you're confident." He looked down at his wine before taking a quick sip.

John flushed lightly and took a sip of his wine. "Is that the only time I'm handsome?" he asked tentatively.

"Well, no, you are all the time," Sherlock said. "But just a little more when you're confident."

John took another sip of wine as their food came. When the server left, he said, "You're handsome all the time, too."

"Not true actually," Sherlock said smiling. "I am not handsome from 6.20 to 6.40 in the morning. That's a fact."

"I'll have to confirm that before I agree," he said.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows but didn't say anymore. He took a bite of food. "It's good," he said. "Is yours everything you'd hoped it would be?" 

John nodded. "Yeah, it's great," he smiled. "I'm glad you like it."

Sherlock fiddled with his food and then took another bite and then a sip of wine. "Did you have plans for after dinner?" he asked.

John opened his mouth and then closed it, flushing as he bit his lip. "I didn't think that far ahead," he admitted.

"I'm enjoying this," Sherlock said. "No need to rush it -- we can see if we want to do anything else once we're finished." He smiled over at John.

John smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't plan it out well," he said.

Sherlock looked over at John. "Hmmm . . . somehow you're just a tiny bit less handsome than you were two minutes ago. . ." he said. 

John covered his face. When he looked up again, he said, "This is going to be the best date you've ever had."

"That's better," Sherlock said, smiling as he finished his wine.

When they finished, John paid and led Sherlock out to the street again. He was wracking his brain for an idea. "What do you like doing in your spare time?" He asked to stall.

"I mostly work on things, I guess," Sherlock said. "I mean I have coursework obviously, but then I like to do other things that I suppose seem like work -- investigating things, I guess. Like that theft or experiments that might teach me something I'll need to know later. I don't really have . . . fun, I suppose. Or maybe those things are what's fun to me."

Okay, so John couldn't build a date on that unless they stumbled into a crime scene. "Let's cut through the park," he said, taking Sherlock's hand again.

Sherlock gripped John's hand. "I'm having a good time with you, John," he said as they walked.

"That's good," he said. "I am too."

They walked along the path through the park. They passed a few other people, but it was relatively quiet. "Let's head down here," Sherlock said, nodding to the left. "There's a nice fountain this way." Sherlock stopped right at the fountain's edge. "It's good, isn't it? Simple design but it makes just enough sound to drown out the noise of the world," he said as he squeezed John's hand.

"Do you come to this spot a lot?" John asked.

"I used to," Sherlock said. "I guess I sometimes still do." He looked over. "Do you like it?"

John nodded. "I do, it's really nice," he said. He looked at Sherlock and smiled, glancing at his mouth before looking away quickly.

Sherlock stared at the water for a moment and then turned towards John, dropping his head to lean in and kiss him. He wanted to and he wanted John to want him to.

Out for the corner of his eye, John saw Sherlock move toward him. He froze and tried to think. He liked Sherlock. He tilted his own head up, shut his eyes, and kissed Sherlock's mouth. His lips were soft. John's whole body warmed as he stepped closer.

Sherlock held the kiss -- it was soft and tentative but as nice as he'd been hoping it'd be. Then he brought his head back, looking into John's eyes and letting a small smile cross his lips. He turned to the fountain again, watching the water, before he said, "It's been a lovely evening, John." He held tight to John's hand.

John squeezed Sherlock's hand. There it was -- his first kiss with a boy. It wasn't so different, well not that wasn't true -- it was different because it was better than any other kiss he'd had.

Sherlock stood for a few more moments and then asked, "Shall we go then?"

John nodded. "I can walk you home," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. He hoped that meant another kiss, but he didn't say anything as they turned and headed back to the flat. 

The walk back was quiet, and John's mind stayed on the kiss. It had been so nice, nothing scary at all. When they got to Sherlock's flat, he was going to try for another one.

Sherlock pulled his keys from his pocket and stopped at his door. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" he asked. 

John shook his head. "I should go, I have class early tomorrow. I had a really good time," he said, stepping a bit closer.

"I did, too, John," Sherlock said. He knew what was happening, and he was going to let it happen.

John moved a bit closer, bringing his hand up to Sherlock's cheek. He came up and kissed him, closing his eyes as he pressed close. Sherlock kissed back, lifting his hand to hold John's arm. He didn't step closer, letting John completely control the kiss. John licked out softly, looping his other arm around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock tipped his head slightly, taking in the taste of John's mouth. He wanted to squeeze him tight, wanted to take him inside the flat and keep this going, but he didn't let any of that show, enjoying what was happening -- not what he wished were happening.

It was a struggle for John to pull away, but he did. He wondered if he looked as flushed as he felt. "See you," he murmured, pecking his mouth once more before turning to go.

"See you," Sherlock said in return and let himself into his flat. He made himself a cup of tea and got comfortable on the sofa. He didn't even fancy checking his email -- that could wait. He wanted to think about this evening. He wanted to think about John.

By the time John got back to his room, he was wishing he'd gone inside with Sherlock. He knew what the invite meant and, in truth, he really wanted to be on Sherlock's couch, making out with him. He flushed as he thought it, marvelling at how easily he could admit that already. Things felt good with Sherlock.

When Sherlock noticed it was almost two in the morning, he got up, went to the bathroom and headed into bed. He stripped off his clothes and slid under his sheets. He looked over at the space beside him and wondered if he'd ever see John there one day. He wanted to. But he also knew this felt different than the others before. It's not just that he wanted John to be beside him. He wanted him to wake up beside him.


	4. In The Library

John dreamed that he was marrying Sherlock, and the entire group of guests stuck in a state of shock. When he woke up in the morning and got in the shower, he stick his head under the cold water to clear it. He dressed and headed to class.

_I hope you slept okay. I'll be at the library around 4 of you want to meet. -JW_

Sherlock turned over towards the table where his phone was vibrating. He sleepily reached for it and checked the text.

_I did. I still was but I'm glad you woke me up. Shall I met you there? SH_

_Sorry! Yes, in the same spot? -JW_

_Yes. SH_

Sherlock thought for a moment and then sent another one quickly.

_I hope you have a good day. SH_

He sent it. It didn't sound like him at all actually, but it wasn't a lie, so he hoped it was all right.

_So far so good. I hope yours is good too. -JW_

_It began with a text from you so it's off to a good start. SH_

Sherlock stared at his words for a few moments. Again, it didn't sound like him, but it also was true. He hit Send. 

John bit his lip and smiled stupidly.

_Will you kiss me again when I see you? -JW_

Sherlock smiled.

_Indeed I will. SH_

Sherlock dragged himself out of bed and headed into the bathroom. Then he moved to the kitchen and clicked on the kettle. He took his tea to his desk and checked his email. The chemist's report came through, which was quite interesting. He printed it out to take with him to the library. Then he skimmed the news for a while before eventually taking a shower and getting dressed. He headed over to the library to arrive a few minutes before 4.

John left his lab, the last class of the day, and paused when he saw a couple people lingering. He dropped the contents of his bag, stooping to pick them all up, listening closely.

"Which one smells worse?" one of them asked.

"Shut up," snapped the other one, glancing at John.

John left the room and ran for the library. He bounded toward the stairs and, after being scolded for all his noise, he slowed to a fast walk to find Sherlock. "I saw them!" he hissed quickly.

Sherlock smiled when he saw John come through the door, but then his face changed. "Who? What? What's happened?" he said, reaching out to touch John's arm.

"Some guys -- in the lab, looking for smelly chemicals." He tugged Sherlock's arm. "Sherlock, they probably want to pull a prank but if they mix the wrong things together --"

Sherlock pulled out the folded sheet from his pocket. He skimmed it again. "Here, let's look this up," he said. "You may be right."

John took out his computer and sat close to Sherlock. "Don't you want to go stop them?"

"They'll be gone by now," Sherlock said. "Besides, if you saw them, that's good enough." He pushed the paper towards John. "See if you can find a place online that sells that one," he added, pointing to one of the chemical names. "They won't have that at the lab, but apparently it's essential if they're using the stolen chemicals to build something dangerous. I need to look something up." He got up and disappeared into the stacks.

John pulled the computer close with a flush of pride as he started looking up the chemicals. The fact that he had seen them was good enough for Sherlock. He wondered where Sherlock had run off to, but he kept taking notes as he read through different websites.

Sherlock returned with a few books and sat down, skimming through. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

"From what I can see you can only get this stuff online, from other countries. What did you find?"

"Hmmm," Sherlock said, flipping through some pages. "It's unlikely this stuff could do real damage without that chemical . . . oh my god, all of this and it's just a stink bomb? Why would anyone want to explode a stink bomb?" He closed the book.

"Some people think it's funny," John said.

"Do you?" Sherlock said, looking over. "And be honest."

"Not really," John said. "It's just unpleasant all around," he said.

"I don't like it either," Sherlock said. He smiled. "Thanks for your help with this."

"I just got lucky and saw them."

"Close your eyes and describe them to me," Sherlock said, pulling out a piece of paper.

John closed his eyes and described the two boys he saw, going through what he heard them saying as well.

Sherlock scribbled it all done. "One more question," he asked, looking a bit cheeky. "Did you think they were handsome?"

John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. "No," he smiled.

"All right then," Sherlock said, folding up the paper. He glanced over at John's computer. "Have you got a lot of work to do?" he asked.

John shook his head. "I'm just going to study later. I was going to make a study guide."

"Are you going to be here all evening, do you think?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. "No, probably an hour," he said.

"Would you like to do something with me after . . . I mean, should we do something together?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "I'm sorry I made you meet me here when I have to do this work first. But I'd love to hang out after."

Sherlock reached over and touched John's hand quickly. "Don't be, John," he said. "I don't mean to give off the impression I'm annoyed -- I'm just trying to find out what's happening. I have reading to do, I could stay and work with you . . . I just wanted to know how much time we might be spending together. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't want to overwhelm you but . . . well, I was thinking we could spend the whole evening together."

"That sounds perfect to me," Sherlock said, giving him a genuine smile.

John smiled back happily. He leaned in and pecked Sherlock's mouth quickly. "You promised, after all," he said.

"I promised what?" Sherlock asked, smiling at the quick kiss but not wanting to make too big of a deal about it.

"A kiss -- that you'd kiss me," he said.

Sherlock glanced around the room. "I would like to kiss you, John," he said quietly. "I'd like to kiss you and do other things with you as well."

John flushed lightly, glancing at Sherlock's eyes. He knew what Sherlock meant, he thought so, anyway. Sherlock's voice did something to him -- and that mouth . . . John stared at as he asked softly, "What kinds of things?"

Sherlock smiled. "Perhaps I'll get a chance to show you one day," he said. "I need to put these books back," he added as he moved back over to the stacks. 

John looked over at Sherlock disappearing into the stacks. Was it an invitation? John tapped his pen on the table, considering, hesitating, before he stood and followed Sherlock.

Sherlock glanced at John behind him and then rushed down an aisle, as if to get John to chase him. He turned at the end and stopped out of sight. John smiled and hurried after him, whipping around the corner. Sherlock grabbed John's arms before he ran into him and pulled him close for a passionate kiss. He pulled back, smiled, and then headed down the aisle casually to replace the book. John stood there, blinking and dazed for a moment, before following after Sherlock again.

Sherlock led them back to the table. "Get your work done," he said quietly. "So we can go spend the rest of the evening together." He smiled and then began writing up what they'd found out in an email.

John nodded and worked quickly, unable to stop looking at Sherlock.

After he sent the email to the police, Sherlock pulled a book from his pocket and began reading, underlining key points and scribbling notes in the margin. He occasionally glanced over at John who he would occasionally catch looking over at him. He tried not to smile and went back to reading.

After another hour John sighed. "I can't focus properly. I'll do this later," he announced.

Sherlock set his book done. "Okay," he said. "But . . . just this once. After today, work first, all right?" He reached over and let his fingers lightly stroke John's wrist. 

John flushed lightly and had to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady. He nodded but knew he couldn't promise that. Not right now.

"Pack up then," Sherlock said. "Have you eaten? We should get you some food."  
  
"Not yet," John said.

"Come on, then," Sherlock smiled. He put his book into his pocket and stood up. "Let's get you a sandwich and take it back to mine."  
  
"Are you getting anything?" John asked as he followed Sherlock out.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Are you hassling me?" he asked with a smile.

"I was only curious," John smiled back.

They headed out towards Sherlock's flat, stopping in at a small sandwich shop. Sherlock got one and then turned to John. "Who pays for this today?" he asked as he reached for his wallet.

John made a face, uncomfortable as he said, "You can, since I did twice in a row," he said.

Sherlock pulled out some cash. "I'm paying for any other meals we have together this week." He pulled a funny face and then paid. "Let's go," he said, holding out his hand for John.

"I won't let you," John said.

"Too late," Sherlock laughed. "I paid and I'm going to keep paying. When I set my mind to something, I do it. You can't stop me." He moved along quickly and then stopped. "We didn't get drinks. I have water and tea and I think a bottle of wine. Did you want something else?"

John shook his head. "The tea is fine," he said.

"All right then," Sherlock said. He unlocked the door and let John go in first. "Do you want to sit at the table or just eat on the sofa?" he asked as he set the bag down on the table.

"It's your place," he said. "Do you have a preference?"

"I don't," Sherlock said. "But I want you to like it here as well . . . you know, feel comfortable and all. Maybe we could study here sometime as well." He felt a bit embarrassed so he turned and put the kettle on. "Whatever you want."

"Let's sit on the sofa," John said.

Sherlock smiled before turning around. He carried the bag over to John and then returned with two mugs, sitting down next to him. "Do you feel like going somewhere this evening?" he asked as he opened his sandwich.

"Are you trying to find things to pay for to spite me?" He teased, digging into his own.

"Of course not," Sherlock said. "When I do things to spite people, it's much more dramatic, believe me." He took a small bite of food and when he'd swallowed it, he added, "I just would like you to have a good time."

"I am," he said, smiling at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked over. "I am, too," he said. "I just like being around you. I don't care what we do."

"Me too," John said, his cheeks warming again.

Sherlock lifted his cup and took a drink. "Are you finding the kissing all right?" he asked. "I mean . . . even though I'm not a girl and all . . ." He buried his face in his cup again.

John nodded, taking a small bite. "It's nice, I like kissing you." He wondered if he'd like kissing other boys or if it was just Sherlock. "And I'm curious . . . about the other stuff you talked about," he added, taking a bigger bite now.

Sherlock looked over at John. Despite his confusion that first day, Sherlock could read John's face clearly. He knew that he could lead John into his bedroom and kiss him and sleep with him right now if he really wanted to. And he did want to. But something felt different about John, and Sherlock wanted everything about John to be different. So instead he said, "Interesting. I hope I'm able to satisfy that curiosity at some point." He went back to his sandwich.

"I just mean . . . I'm not _just_ curious. I'm . . . I want it," he said. "Whatever we do."

Sherlock smiled warmly. "I want you to be curious," he said. "But I also want it to be more than just curiosity." He reached over and touched John's leg, squeezing slightly, before pulling back his hand. "Whatever we do . . . or don't do . . . it'll just be me and you and it will be nice."

John nodded, his leg tingling where Sherlock touched him. "I trust you," he murmured.

"Do you?" Sherlock asked genuinely. "Why?"

"I don't know how to explain," he said.

Sherlock leaned over and kissed John quickly. "I don't either, John," he said. "But I trust you as well."

John smiled. "Good, that's good."

Sherlock finished his sandwich and then got up and made another cup of tea for them both. He grabbed a pack of biscuits as well, bring them back to the sofa. "Not much of a dessert, I'm afraid," he said.

"It's perfect," he said, taking one and dipping it into his tea.

Sherlock took a sip of his hot tea. "Can I ask you something?" he said without looking toward John.

"Sure," he said, looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock still didn't turn his head. "Do you feel comfortable here?" he asked.

John looked around the room and nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"Comfortable enough to stay the whole night?" Sherlock asked. "Not tonight, I mean, just . . . at some point?"

John nodded. "I would," he said. "Even tonight," he added softly.

"I --" Sherlock thought carefully. He wanted to make a sensible choice. "I've got something in the morning, so tonight might not be good." He looked over. "I'm glad you feel comfortable here. I feel comfortable having you here." He smiled.

"Okay, yeah," John said. "That's fine."

Sherlock was pleased he'd practised restraint. "I was wondering if it might okay if we kissed some more," he said softly.

"I would really like that," John said, turning towards him.

Sherlock shifted on the sofa, leaning in toward John. He kissed him softly first and then moved even closer, sliding a hand around his back as he deepened the kiss. John arched lightly, returning the kiss with matching eagerness. Sherlock let his tongue slip inside John's mouth as he pressed their chests together. John leaned back even more, lying on Sherlock's sofa and tugging Sherlock with him. Sherlock let his weight fall softly onto John as he lifted both hands to John's head, losing his fingers in his hair. He moved his head as he covered John's face with kisses before going back to kissing his mouth deeply. He wanted John -- wanting to stand up and take him into his bedroom. He felt his heart rate change and his skin warm. John's hands moved along Sherlock's back, toying with the hem of his shirt. He was hot and breathless as they kissed, all thoughts of Sherlock being a boy long gone, replaced by how good it felt. 

Sherlock pressed his hips against John. He was getting an erection and he suddenly decided that being sensible was stupid. He slid a hand under John's body to grip his hips and thrust against them. John felt Sherlock against his thigh -- he was getting hard too and he wasn't sure what to do.

Sherlock opened his eyes, saw John's face and stopped. He needed to be sensible. For John. He shifted slightly to lie on his side. "That was nice," he said softly. He pushed himself up properly and then stood up. "I need another cup of tea," he said as he tried to calm himself down a little.

John pushed himself up and shifted on the sofa, watching Sherlock move into the kitchen. He had a strange mix of upset and relief that it'd stopped.

Sherlock returned with the mugs and handed one to John. He sat down again, leaving a little space between them. "John," he said. "Did you like all that business?"

John nodded. "It was . . .different, but good."

"How was it different?"

"It felt different," he murmured. "I could tell . . . I mean, you know, we're the same," he rambled.

"We are the same," Sherlock said. "But different too. We can try new things but if you want to stop, you've got to say, all right?" He smiled over at him.

John nodded. "Okay," he smiled. He shifted in his seat again, waiting for his erection to go down before he had to stand up to go. 

"Look," Sherlock said. "Tomorrow, do you have plans with your friends or perhaps we could do something together?"

"No, there's nothing going on. I'd rather see you anyway," John admitted.

"And maybe you could stay the night . . ."

John shifted in his seat again; that wasn't helping his situation. "Okay," he agreed.

Sherlock sat next to John. "Before you leave, I just want to ask you something," he said softly. "I don't want to know about girls you've been with or anything, but I guess I'm just trying to ask if you . . . have any views like no sex before marriage or anything like that? I don't want us to keep having to talk about it all . . . obviously neither of us should do anything we don't want to do and we don't have to decide anything for sure right now, but if there's already something you have decided -- like something you know you don't want to do -- could you let me know so I don't do the wrong thing?"

"I don't have anything like that, but I want you to know I've only been with one girl so I'm not . . . I mean, that's all I know," he said.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "Thanks for telling me." He reached over and held John's hand. "We'll be all right," he said softly.

John squeezed his hand and smiled. "Okay. I should go," he added, standing and stretching.

Sherlock stood up as well. "Text me when you want to get together tomorrow, all right?" he said.

"Okay. I'll finish my work first," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Think about if there's anything you'd like to do." He walked John to the door and gave him a quick kiss. "Maybe text me when you get back so I know you're safe."

John smiled softly. "I will. See you," he said before he left.

Sherlock watched John leave. He then tidied up and changed into his pajamas. He sat down on the sofa with a cup of tea and flicked through the channels for a few moments and when he'd finished his tea, he decided to get in bed and read. He found it a bit hard to focus, though, so he set his book down and turned on his side. He imagined John being there. Why did John seem so different? He still wasn't sure. He got up and brought his laptop back to bed, Googling John's name, but not really finding much. He put his laptop on the floor and lay back again to think more.

John texted Sherlock that he was home and then started to do some work so he'd have less to do tomorrow. However, his mind wandered back to Sherlock's sofa.

Sherlock read John's text and then set his phone down. Then he picked it back up.

_Are you in bed? SH_

_Not yet, I started on some homework. -JW_

_I'm in bed already. My bed's quite comfortable actually. SH_

Sherlock smiled a little, wondering how John might respond.

John looked at the message for a moment.

_I'm afraid I can't comment on that. Not yet. -JW_

_I hope you'll stay tomorrow. No pressure, but I would like that. SH_

_I would like that too. -JW_

_Have a think about what you'd like to do tomorrow night. We could go somewhere or stay in. It's up to you. SH_

John didn't know what to say. He wanted to stay in and do whatever Sherlock was planning to do with him in his bed.

_I could bring a movie. -JW_

_That sounds good. I could make us dinner. SH_

_I'll bring dessert. -JW_

Sherlock thought for a moment. Why had he offered to cook? What was he actually doing? Then he realised it: John was used to boy-girl dates and maybe even all the stereotypical things that come with that. Maybe Sherlock could give him something like that. He pulled the laptop up and started Googling. He read a few articles from women's magazines about the perfect date. He sent John a quick text and went back to his research.

_Text me when you get in bed, okay? SH_

John continued his own work for a little over an hour. Then he set his alarm and got into bed, texting Sherlock that he was going to sleep now.

Sherlock had just written up his shopping list for tomorrow and was back in bed with the lamp off.

_Do you sleep in pajamas or nude? SH_

_My pants. -JW_

_Very sexy. Or maybe lazy. I wear pajamas. SH_

John flushed and turned into his pillow before answering.

_And tomorrow? -JW_

_I will have to see how I feel. I'm a man who has whims. SH_

_I'll have to wait and see then. -JW_

_I hope you will. Now you've given me something to think about as I fall asleep. SH_

_I'll be thinking about you too. -JW_

_Good night, John. SH_

_Good night, Sherlock. -JW_


	5. Another Date

When Sherlock woke up the next morning, he showered and got dressed and went straight out on his errands. He got everything on his list and headed back to the flat. He kept an eye on the time, hoping that he'd enough time to prepare as well as get his own coursework done before John called.

John dreamt about going to Sherlock's, but then everything blurred and faded and when he woke up he didn't remember much of it. He went to class half distracted, then came home and finished the homework from last night -- he didn't want any reason to have to leave Sherlock's early. Then he took a long shower, got dressed, and texted Sherlock that he was ready when Sherlock was.

Sherlock had just got out of the bath when John's text came through. He sent a reply asking for a half hour and then finished getting himself and the flat ready.

John waited a little more than a half hour before he walked to Sherlock's, giving him a little extra time. He knocked loudly and then realised he forgot the dessert. He cursed softly, considering hurrying away before Sherlock answered, but it was too late.

"Hello," Sherlock said as he opened the door. "Come in, you look nice, come on in," he added as he led him inside. "Can I get you anything?"

"I forgot the dessert -- I can go get it," John said, turning for the door again.

"It doesn't matter -- we'll have lots of food," Sherlock said. "I'll get us a cup of tea. Go on in and sit down." 

John went inside and, after taking his shoes off, sat on the sofa. He noticed a vase of flowers on the desk and smiled.

Sherlock came in with two cups of tea and sat down. "You look nice," he said. "Did you have a good day?" He heard his voice which didn't sound entirely normal, but maybe that was okay -- this kind of date wasn't normal for him but he wanted to make John happy.

"I had a good day. And I finished all my work," John said. "What about you?"

"Yes, I got some work done," Sherlock said. "I meant to tell you, the police were pleased with the information we sent them about the chemical thefts. I presume that's all been sorted."

"Yeah?" John smiled. "I'm glad that I could help."

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asked suddenly. "We can eat whenever you want."

"Yeah, what did you make?"

Sherlock stood up and moved to the kitchen. "It's . . . um, something Italian," he said as he leaned over and pulled the dish out of the oven. He set it on the table. "And salad, I made the salad," he added, grabbing the bowl from the sink. "Do you want to come and sit down?" He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the candles on the table.

John followed him into the kitchen and saw another vase of flowers and the candles. "Wow," he said, moving to sit down.

Sherlock moved round and pushed John's chair in a little even though it was entirely unnecessary to do so. "Help yourself," he said. Before he sat down, he grabbed a bottle of wine and poured each of them a glass.

"Okay," John said, serving himself some salad first. "This all looks really great, Sherlock."

"I hope it tastes good," Sherlock said. "Did I mention that you look very nice tonight?"

John smiled and nodded. "You did." He reached out and touched Sherlock's hand before taking a drink of wine. "You look handsome, too."

"Thanks," Sherlock said, taking a sip of wine as well. "I -- I wanted to look nice for the date."

"Well, you do. Everything looks nice," John said again.

"I cleaned up a bit," Sherlock continued. "I mean, the flat's not usually a disaster or anything, but I wanted to tidy up." He took a bite of the food. "It's not bad actually," he said before taking another bite.

"Did you doubt your cooking skills?"

"Well, kind of," Sherlock said. "Because I didn't really cook it -- well, I cooked it as in baked it but I didn't actually make it, the pasta, I mean. I did make the salad though, really I did." 

John smiled fondly. "It's great, Sherlock. Honest."

"Good," Sherlock said. "I tried really hard." He took another sip of wine. "Anyway, let's stop talking about it. Instead let's talk about . . . your sports stuff." 

John raised his brows. "I don't think you'll like that much either," he said. He smiled. "Let's talk about how we'll celebrate our solved case."

"We can talk about whatever you want to talk about it," Sherlock said. "Should this date be our celebration?"

"No, I like this just being a date," John said.

"Maybe the next time I have something to investigate, you could help." 

"Yeah, I'd like that. I'll help as best as I can," John said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I could help you with your coursework if you need it. I don't mind."

Sherlock ate as much of the food as he could, finishing two glasses of wine as well. He relaxed a little more. They talked more about their coursework and a bit about their families. Once they'd finished, he realised that the date was going quite well actually, and he felt pleased, hoping the rest of his plans went as well.

John leaned back when he was full, finishing his glass of wine slowly.

Sherlock stood and reached to put the kettle on. "I know you said you'd bring dessert, but I also got us some fancy biscuits," he said. "Which is good, I guess, since you forgot to bring anything." He lay some biscuits on a plate and put those on the table as he took John's other plates away. "I hope you like them. I got some films I thought you might like. We can watch one when we're done. I got popcorn as well."

"You've thought of everything," John said.

"I tried to," Sherlock said. He took a sip of tea. "I wanted it to be nice," he said again. It felt like he was saying that too much.

When they'd finished their tea, Sherlock led them back into the sitting room. Then he grabbed his bag and dumped some DVDs out on the sofa. "Here," he said. "I thought one of these would be good."

John looked through the movies, his expression getting more and more confused as he looked on. They were what could be described as chick flicks. "Um . . . you thought I would like these?" he asked, turning his confused expression to Sherlock.

"Well . . . they're romantic, aren't they?" Sherlock said, looking down at his display. "I wanted it to be romantic."

"Yeah, but . . . do you like these movies? Where did you get this specific list?"

"Well, no, I don't like any of them, but . . ." Sherlock sat down on his chair. "I'm not like you -- you like this kind of thing. . ."

"I don't, though, not these films, anyway. It's usually girls who like these."

"But you like girls, so that's why I research--" Sherlock started but then stopped himself.

"You researched what?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed. "Romantic dates, with girls, I mean," he said quietly, quite embarrassed. "I just wanted it to be nice . . ." He regretted his repetition. "I mean, like you're used to. . ."

"But neither of us is a girl. I want to be on a date with you," John said.

Sherlock looked over. "I'm sorry . . . " he said. "I know this all seems new to you, but some of it is new to me . . . I just --" he took another drink of tea. "I've never . . . had feelings like this about . . . I don't know, I just feel like we're . . . supposed to be together or something, which I know is probably stupid, but I just --" He hid his face in his mug again.

"Sherlock, the thing about dating is you get to know the person. Dates can't be scripted. . ." He reached out and touched his hand. "Do you want to start over?" 

"Did you like any of it?" Sherlock asked, looking up.

"I liked the flowers and the candles, the fact that you made a romantic dinner. It's just the films that aren't my thing, you know?" 

"Okay," Sherlock said. "They're not my thing either."

"Have you done this before? Dating, I mean."

"Not really, I mean . . . no, I haven't," Sherlock said. He knew that John would figure out what that meant -- that his previous sexual experiences were meaningless and with people he didn't really care about -- but that was exactly true actually so perhaps it was better that John knew it.

"Well, I've only been with one person," John said. "So let's start the date over and then I'll learn about you and you'll learn about me."

"All right," Sherlock said, squeezing John's hand. "I did have one more thing planned . . . I mean I did read about it, but this one is something I'd like so . . . should we try it?"

John smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

Sherlock stood up and moved over to the old record player he'd discovered at a charity shop and had fixed up. He softly dropped the needle onto the disc and then moved over to John, holding out his hand. "Do you want to dance with me?" he asked, his face blushing a little.

John sobered a bit, his face flushing lightly as he took Sherlock's hand and stepped closer.

Sherlock pulled John close to him, dropping his other hand to John's lower back. He began to step back and forth, moving them slowly to the music. "I know this is probably not the kind of dancing you're used to but . . ." he mumbled.

"It's nice. I don't go to clubs or anything. I'm not good at dancing," John said softly.

"You're quite good," Sherlock said. He nuzzled his head against John's a little, inhaling the clean smell of John's hair.

"This is easy," John murmured, his face nuzzling in Sherlock's neck.

"I want everything between us to be this easy," Sherlock said, almost in a whisper.

John nodded into his neck, taking a slow, deep breath.

"Can I kiss you?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," John breathed, tilting his head up to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked down and kissed John's mouth once softly and then again a little more passionately. John kissed him back, softly at first and then tilted his head as it got deeper.

Sherlock pressed his hand against John's back, kissing John even more enthusiastically. "You taste good," he whispered.

John kissed him again, smiling softly at him. "You too."

"Do you want to come into the bedroom with me?" Sherlock asked.

John met Sherlock's eyes and nodded. 

Sherlock stepped back still holding John's hand and watching his face. He seemed certain. "Can you blow out the candles?" he said, moving to the record player. "We don't want the flat to burn down." He smiled and then turned to pour two more glasses of wine. "Come on," he said, moving toward his room. John blew out the candles and followed Sherlock into his bedroom. He looked around the room, standing near the end of the bed.

Sherlock set the glasses down. "This is my room," he said a bit stupidly. He moved closer to John, sliding his arms around him. He kissed his mouth again. John lifted his hands to Sherlock's chest, holding his shirt lightly as they kissed. Sherlock dropped his mouth to John's neck and began softly sucking on the skin there. His hands moved up and down John's back.

John huffed softly, his hands gripping tighter. "Sherlock," he sighed. 

"Can we lie down?" Sherlock asked as he started to move John down onto the bed.

John got into the bed, moving back towards the middle. He tugged Sherlock closer, leaning up to kiss him again. 

Sherlock leaned down over John, his body to his side, and looked into his eyes. "I'm glad you're here," he said softly, stroking John's hair. He leaned down and kissed him softly.

"Me too," John said. He looped a hand around Sherlock's neck, playing with his hair. "I want to make you feel good."

"You do," Sherlock said. "I want you to feel good, too." He pressed a little closer. John kissed along his jaw and down Sherlock's neck, sucking the skin lightly and grazing his teeth.

"That feels good," Sherlock said. He lowered one of his hands to grip John's hip.

John buried into the nape of his neck and sucked harder.

"John," Sherlock exhaled. "You're making me . . . hard. I'm sorry . . ."

"Why are you sorry?" 

"I don't want to rush us," Sherlock said, pulling back a little.

John licked his lips and nodded. 

"Do you want to stop?" Sherlock said, rolling to lie next to John again.

"No," John admitted. He looked over at Sherlock.

"Maybe we could . . ." Sherlock started, reaching over to start to unbutton John's shirt.

John lay still, watching Sherlock. "I want to. I want you," he said.

"Not tonight . . . we're going slow, remember?" Sherlock said, smiling. He pushed John's shirt open and leaned over and started covering John's chest with soft kisses. He then went lower down John's body to kiss his belly, as his hand moved to John's upper thigh, squeezing lightly.

John squirmed and bit his lip. "Sherlock? Are you . . . are you going down there?" He asked stupidly.

"No," Sherlock said, looking up. "But could I touch you?"

"Yes, but can I touch you, too?" John asked. "Come up by me."

Sherlock moved back up John's body. He slowly started to unbutton John's jeans as he kissed his mouth again. John kissed him back and finally got his own arms moving, unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt and pushing it off his shoulders.

"Tell me what you like," Sherlock said, sliding his hand into John's pants and wrapping his fingers around John's firm cock. He began rubbing it as he continued to kiss his mouth. John took a deep breath, kissing Sherlock harder. His own hand moved lower into Sherlock's pants. His fingers wrapped around Sherlock's cock, just like his but different as well. 

"That feels good," Sherlock exhaled as he dropped his mouth to suck on John's neck.

John nodded. "It's different," he said. "I like that it's you, that you're touching me."

"Is this how you like it?" Sherlock asked.

"It feels good," John moaned softly.

Sherlock kept stroking and kissing John. John's touch on him felt good, but doing it to John felt even better. He shifted a bit on the bed, but the angle felt wrong. "Do you . . . want to get in the bed?" he asked softly.

John nodded, his breathing a bit heavy now. 

Sherlock scrambled to get his clothes off, hoping John would do the same. He pulled down the cover and slid underneath. John stood and took everything off quickly, getting under the covers with Sherlock. 

Sherlock pulled their bodies together, tangling their legs a bit. "I bet this feels a little different," he said with a smile as he softly kissed him. He wanted to slow things down a little, helping them both enjoy everything without thinking of anything but what was happening now.

John nodded. "It's different, but I like it -- I mean, this feels good . . . with you."

"It does feel good . . . with you," Sherlock said, moving his hand to John's hip and then round to hold his cock again. "I like how you touch me," he mumbled into another kiss.

John found Sherlock's cock again, looking down this time as he touched it, stroking slowly.

Sherlock let out a small moan at the movement of John's hand. "I like it like that," he said. "I like to make it last as long as possible. . ."

John nodded. He'd never touched another besides his own. He knew what he liked and found himself eager to learn what Sherlock liked. 

"God," Sherlock mumbled as he kissed John's mouth. "You're really good at that." He let his hips rock gently as both their hands and bodies made the bed rock softly against the wall.

"I've never . . ." John started but didn't continue.

"I'm . . . close," Sherlock said, watching John's face. "Is that okay? Do you want to stop?"

"I want to keep going . . . to see you."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment -- he felt so good physically but he also knew that part of what felt so good is that John was going to stay the night here with him. He sped up his own hand a little as he felt the tension building in his body and then his hips jerked and he came, spilling over John's fingers.

John gasped and watched Sherlock before he closed his eyes and let go. He came in Sherlock's hand, moaning his name.

Sherlock quickly pushed himself, lifting his other hand to John's face, touching his cheek softly. "You okay?" he asked, his breath still ragged.

John nodded, turning his head to kiss Sherlock's palm. "I'm okay," he said.

Sherlock just stayed close to John for a few moments, feeling sated and comfortable and then he moved back a little. "I'll get us a cloth," he said. "We got a bit messy." He sat up but saw that his clothes were not quite within reach, so he stood up and grabbed his dressing gown, slipping it around him without tying it up. He went into the bathroom and cleaned himself up and then brought a warm, damp flannel back for John.

John took it and cleaned up, his cheeks flushed as he finished and handed it back to Sherlock. "That was good, doing it with you," he said.

"It was," Sherlock smiled. "Very good indeed." He climbed back in bed, leaving the dressing gown on the floor. "You feel okay -- in your head, I mean?"

John nodded. "I feel okay," he said. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Did you . . . still want to sleep here? We could watch a film in here or something -- I proper film, I mean."

"Yeah, I'd like to," he said. "Sleep over and watch a film," he added. "What kind of films do you like?"

"Not romantic ones, I'm afraid," Sherlock said, getting up to grab his laptop. "Documentaries mainly, but we can watch whatever you want."

"I like action films, spy films, things like that," he said. 

Sherlock turned the laptop towards John. "You choose something," he said. "Do you want popcorn? I really did buy some."

"Yeah, okay," he said. John pulled the computer close and looked for a good movie.

Sherlock got up. This time he put his pajamas on and went into the kitchen to make some popcorn. He also poured two glasses of water and then carried everything back into the bedroom. "There's the wine there as well," he said, crawling back into bed. "So what did you pick?"

"Something for both of us, it's a documentary about the spies from the old wars," he said. 

"Excellent," Sherlock said. He took a quick sip of water and then set the glass on the bedside table. He picked up his wine glass instead. "Do you mind if I turn off the lamp?" he asked.

"No, not at all," he said, moving closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock slouched down a little leaning his shoulder against John. He stared at the laptop for a few moments and then took a drink. He set the glass down and said, "I really like you, John. I don't like many people -- I don't know why I am like I am. But there's something very different about you."

John nodded. "It's . . . all different for me. But you make me feel good, comfortable."

"Those words are rarely associated with me," Sherlock said. "But I'm glad you feel that way." He reached over and held John's hand as they continued to watch the film. John laced their fingers and smiled softly, leaning on Sherlock as well.


	6. The World Outside

When the film finished, Sherlock turned to look over at John. "It's kind of ridiculously early to be in bed on a Friday night, but I have to be honest," he said. "I don't really fancy getting up. Should we just stay here until we sleep?"

John nodded, setting the computer on the bedside table so he could shift and be more comfortable. "This is nice," he said. They started to talk, but John's mind wandered to what they had done earlier, seeing it in his head again. He was glad they were starting slow.

Sherlock rubbed John's hand with his fingers as he listened to John talk. John occasionally downplayed an idea he had or something he'd done, but everything he said made him all the more interesting to Sherlock. Eventually, John's words started slurring and fading as he began to doze.

"Come on," Sherlock said, shifting a little. "Let's go to sleep." He gave John a soft kiss and then snuggled down. John hardly heard Sherlock as he drifted off to sleep. Sherlock's bed was warm and comfortable. When the sun was streaming in, he hardly remembered falling asleep.

Sherlock opened his eyes and saw John lying beside him. It felt as nice as he'd imagined it would be. He reached over and touched John's arm. "Morning," he said.

"Hi," John smiled softly.

"You slept over and I like that," Sherlock said.

John smiled and wondered if he was the first one to do so here. "I like it, too, the waking up part especially."

"Did you think you weren't going to wake up or something? Were you worried I'd poisoned the food or something?" Sherlock asked.

"What? No! I meant because it was with you, next to you," John said.

"I'm teasing you," Sherlock said. "I guess I should get up and make us some tea." He stretched a little.

"Is there anything for breakfast?"

"That seems very unlikely," Sherlock smiled. He got up and stretched again, heading out. "I could make toast, but I've not got jam," he called from the sitting room as he gathered up the things from last night.

"Eggs? I can cook for us," John called back.

"No eggs." Sherlock returned in a few minutes with the toast. "Here, eat this," he said smiling. "Don't get crumbs all over though." He came back with the tea. "You look handsome in the morning," he said, handing him a cup.

John raised his brows skeptically. "Not with sleep hair and bad breath," he smiled.

"Well, fine, yes, you smell bad, but the hair's fine," Sherlock said. He climbed back in bed and took a sip of tea.

John slapped his arm but grinned. 

"Don't make a mess," Sherlock said. "Are we going to kiss at all this morning, do you think?"

John grinned. "I want to brush first. Do you have an extra one?" He asked, embarrassed that he'd forgotten that as well.

"I think . .. " Sherlock said. "Check the little cupboard . . . I think there's one in there."

John took out the extra brush. "I'll be right back," he said. He went into the bathroom and freshened up, brushing quickly before returning to the bed. 

"Your tea's going to get cold," Sherlock said. 

John took a sip. "No, it's okay," he smiled.

"So . . . about the kissing . . . you still up for that idea?" Sherlock said, trying to sound casual.

John smiled. "Yes, I am."

"Well, lie down then," Sherlock said, pulling on him and shifting so he was lying on top of John. "This okay?" he asked, his face very close to John's.

John looped his hands around Sherlock's neck. "Perfect."

Sherlock leaned down and kissed John. "Minty fresh," he smiled before kissing him again. John smiled and kissed him harder.

Sherlock pressed his hips against John as they continued to kiss. Then he began to rock a little. "What do you think?" he asked as he slid his hand down the side of John's body and gripped onto his hip bone.

John moaned softly, his hands sliding down his back. "I like this."

"Me too," Sherlock said. He moved a little to the side and then shifted his hand to palm John's cock. "Do you want me to do anything different this time?" he asked.

John shook his head. "Let me touch you, too."

"All right," Sherlock said. "I'm not going to stop you. Do you want to do it at the same time?"

"I want to focus . . . is that okay?"

"All right," Sherlock said, lying back a little to give John room.

John moved closer to Sherlock, his eyes moving over Sherlock's body before tugging at his pajama bottoms. His eyes fixed on Sherlock's cock -- he couldn't see well the night before. He looked at Sherlock's face and then down again. He wrapped his fingers around it, stroking slowly.

"I like the way you do it," Sherlock mumbled. He lifted a hand to his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's good . . ." He dropped his hand to hold John's arm. "Don't stop, okay?"

John nodded, leaning into Sherlock's touch. He licked his palm so his hand would move more easily, swiping his thumb over the tip.

"Lean down and kiss me -- I like the kissing," Sherlock said in a soft moan. When John did, Sherlock mumbled "Faster" against the kiss. John complied, adding a small twist.

"Fuck," Sherlock called, his hips jerking as he came. He tried to keep his eyes open to watch John, but his head fell back a little as his orgasm hit. Then he looked up and said, "Sorry, but God, you're good . . ."

John watched Sherlock's cock empty on his belly and on his own hand. 

"Do you like doing that?" Sherlock asked as he let his hand reach down to John's hard cock. He pulled on his pants to free it and then started a slow, firm stroke.

John nodded. "I like making you feel good," he said, lying down beside him. It was different but easier because he knew what to do for Sherlock, based on what he liked himself.

"Does this feel good?" Sherlock asked, shifting to lean over John. He swiped his hand over the tip as John had done.

John gasped softly and nodded. 

"What else do you like, John?" Sherlock asked, his voice husky. "Tell me . . ."

"Twist . . . and just a bit harder," John said, turning into Sherlock a bit.

Sherlock did as John asked. He leaned closer to John's ear, licking out and tracing it with his tongue. "What else? What about . . . if I put it in my mouth?" he whispered.

John gasped softly, a soft moan escaping. His girlfriend hadn't ever done that to him. "Okay," he exhaled.

Sherlock kissed John's mouth and then moved slowly down his body. He nuzzled John's cock as he continued to stroke it and then swirled his tongue over the tip. He held onto the base and he slowly slipped the end into his mouth. He began moving his mouth further down before dragging it back up, over and over again.

"Sherlock," John moaned, swallowing hard as he tried to keep still. "God . . . Sherlock . . ." 

Sherlock looked up quickly. "Just relax," he said calmly. "Do whatever you need to do. . . I just want to make you feel good," he added as he moved John back into his mouth.

"I'm close already," John admitted, lifting his head to look down at Sherlock. He moaned and lay flat again, carding his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock kept moving over John's cock. He gripped the base and used his free hand to squeeze John's thigh. He pictured the scene in his head, and it was so sexy. He wondered if John would always stay here and they could do these things every morning, and Sherlock could kiss him all the time. John squirmed as the heat built, and finally he called out, covering his mouth as he came. He pulled Sherlock's hair, arching off the bed a bit.

Sherlock leaned over and put a kiss on John's stomach. "That was beautiful," he said. He moved over to the other side of the bed and lay down next to John. "We've done a lot of things," he said softly. "I hope it's all been okay with you."

John panted softly, his whole body still warm and electric from the orgasm. He moved closer to Sherlock, turning into his chest. "I liked that," he mumbled.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Let's stay here for a bit before you go." He slid an arm around John. "Or I could take you for breakfast if you want?"

"No, I'd like to lie here with you for a little while." John took a deep breath, smelling Sherlock but also the two of them together. 

"Good," Sherlock said again. They lay for a little while, chatting about everything and nothing. Sherlock felt drowsy a few times, but it was nice just cuddling together. It was something he'd literally never done with anyone, and he was glad John was the first and hoped he would be the last as well.

After a couple hours, John's stomach growled loudly. He really didn't want to leave, but he also didn't want to over stay his welcome. He shifted to get up, stretching before he started to dress.

"Do you have to go?" Sherlock said, following John's lead. "We could get lunch or something . . ."

John looked over. "I don't have to, I don't have other plans." He took a breath. "I wouldn't mind spending the whole day with you," he admitted.

Sherlock looked over. "Are you going to sleep here again?" he asked.

"Would that be okay?"

Sherlock thought for a moment. He did wish John would stay the night because he knew he kind of wished John actually just lived here with him. But should he trust that wish? Waking up with a person one time was quite different -- should he do it again immediately? He looked over at John who was handsome and sexy and interesting. "Of course," he said. "Why don't you?"

John smiled, releasing the breath he was holding. "Okay. I'll have to stop by my place for new clothes," he said.

"All right," Sherlock said. "I'll shower and then you can as well, if you want."

"Hmm, I'll feel weird putting my old pants on again. I'll wait and do it when I have something clean."

"That's an interesting detail," Sherlock said with a smile. "Put the kettle back on again, will you?" he asked as he grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the bathroom. John flushed, as if he'd said too much, quickly moving into the kitchen. He looked for food, starved, and truly found nothing. He made another piece of toast while he waited.

Sherlock came out of the bathroom, noticing the toast. "Sorry, I don't have more," he said. He looked over at John. "Did you snoop around my things?" he asked, smiling.

John's smile faltered a bit. "No, of course not, I mean, just the . .. sorry, I shouldn't have looked around."

Sherlock took a deep breath -- he wanted his voice to sound normal. "I'm sorry, John Watson," he said, moving over to him. "I don't know why I said that -- I'm sorry." He touched his arm lightly and then began to make a cup of tea.

"It's okay, you're right," he said. "I'm a guest, I shouldn't have been snooping."

"No, John," Sherlock said. "You're not a -- look, I'm sorry, I know you weren't snooping . . . I'm sorry, all right?"

"Okay," he nodded. He smiled up at Sherlock.

"Sorry about all that," Sherlock said. "Anyway, let me check my email while I have this tea, then we'll go, yeah?" He moved over to his desk.

When he finished they headed off. On the street, Sherlock asked, "Lunch first or your place?"

"Mine, so I can shower really quick," he said.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "Lead the way."

John led the way back. Before they got to the residence hall, Sherlock stopped. "Do you want me to wait out here?" he asked.

"What? Why?" John asked.

"You know," Sherlock said, glancing around. "Because you're a boy and I'm . . . one as well."

John looked around. "So? It's fine."

"If you're sure," Sherlock said, following him in.

"It's a bit messy," John said as he opened the door for Sherlock. He followed behind him and tried to tidy up quickly. 

"It's quite messy," Sherlock said, looking round. "I was expecting to you to be tidy," he added, smiling.

John flushed but smiled. "Quiet you," he said. "I'm going to shower. I'll be right back."

"What do I do if someone comes to the door?" Sherlock said. "I won't answer it," he decided for himself. "Don't take long, all right?"

John nodded, hurrying into the bathroom. He started the shower and climbed in, imagining Sherlock on his bed. It made him smile. Sherlock sat down on John's bed. He looked around again. He was tempted to snoop -- just out of curiosity -- but after what had happened at the flat, he didn't dare touch anything. Then there was a knock at the door. He stood up quickly, freezing for a moment. And then the door opened.

Megan stood in the door. "Who are you?" She asked Sherlock. She checked to make sure she had the right room.

"Who are you?" Sherlock said instinctively. He stood up and glanced towards the bathroom door. "John!" he called.

"Just a second!" John called.

Megan turned toward John's voice. "I'm John's ex, I'm just picking something up." Then, she smiled. "Are you a friend?"

"John!" Sherlock called again, stepping back almost defensively. "A person is here . . ."

"Sherlock, one second!" John called again, drying off and wrapping the towel around his waist. "You just wanna see me nak--" He cut off when he opened the door and saw who was here.

Megan smirked. "Forgot my jumper," she said. 

John flushed lightly. "You got your jumper. Now go."

"I knew it," she said and then left, shutting the door behind her.

"I shouldn't have come in," Sherlock said, moving toward the door. "I can wait outside . . . "

John jolted and reached out to him. "Don't, please?" he asked softly. "Don't leave. I just have to get dressed."

Sherlock stopped. "Hurry then," he said. "I don't really like it here."

John let him go. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's all right, John," Sherlock said. "It's just . . . not my world, is it?"

"It's just my room, and me," John said softly. He turned and started picking up clothes. "It's just me." He went back into the bathroom to get dressed, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Sherlock watched him and then moved to the closed door. "But it's not just you," he said. "It's also them . . . and I don't like them. Just you."

John leaned against the door. "There's no 'them'," he said. "And if there was . . . it doesn't matter. They have nothing to do with us."

Sherlock exhaled. He didn't want to have an argument, but more than that, he didn't want to be the one to tell John that sometimes 'they' did matter. "Hurry up then," he said, trying to lighten his voice. "Let's go get you lunch."

John dressed quickly and fussed his wet hair to make it sit better. Then he threw some clothes and toiletries into his bag before walking down with Sherlock. Near the door, Megan and her friends were watching him, giggling quietly. He ignored them, following Sherlock outside. "What do you want to eat?" he asked.

Sherlock had noticed the woman and had also noticed John ignoring her. "Whatever you want," he said.

John shouldered his bag and led the way. After a few minutes of silence, he started talking. He explained why they had broken up -- John wasn't as attentive as she would have liked. She didn't like John having so many extra curricular activities that took away from their time together. John felt a bit suffocated, especially because even a quick lunch or walk to class didn't enough for her. She wanted all or nothing. 

Sherlock listened to John's explanation. He wasn't sure why he was getting this information. Unless . . . was John trying to tell him something? He didn't say anything, just nodded when it seemed appropriate.

John took a deep breath. "I'm sorry she came to the room, but I don't have anything to do with her anymore. It's just us," he said. 

"Okay," Sherlock said. He tried to mean it and maybe he really did, but he also knew that it wasn't all that long ago that this woman meant something to John. "It's all right -- other people are a part of your life. It'd be stupid of me to pretend they weren't."

"Right, but people like her -- I just mean, I have a few friends but they're friends, not . . . I mean you're the only one who's like this," he said. 

"You mean, with kissing and all that?" Sherlock asked, just to be certain.

"Yeah," John nodded. He smiled at Sherlock. 

"Good," Sherlock said, smiling back. "But if you change your mind -- which you're allowed to do -- you do need to tell me, all right?"

John nodded. "That goes for you too," he said.

"Right," Sherlock said. "As I said, you're different, but all right, I will tell you if I change my mind." They nipped into a sandwich shop and got some food. 

After they finished and left, Sherlock said, "Look, if you don't want to come back to mine, that's fine -- you probably have things you need to do. . ."

"What? I already told you I don't have plans," he said. "I want to hang out with you."

Sherlock looked over and could tell John was telling the truth. "Good," he said. "I want to hang out with you as well. Should we go then?"

John nodded. As they walked, he said, "Sherlock, I don't know if it's because you're a boy too, but this feels different. Better, I suppose, than it had with her." He flushed and rubbed his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to say that."

"You mean because of last night . . . and this morning?" Sherlock asked. "Is that what feels different?"

"Not just that. It's everything with you," he said, still not looking over at Sherlock. 

Sherlock reached over and touched John's arm. "It's the same with me," he said. "I mean I feel the same about you. I don't understand it really -- I'm trying not to worry about it, but it's just . . . different."

John looked over when Sherlock touched his arm. He smiled and took Sherlock's hand as they walked.

Sherlock relaxed a bit during their walk. True, other people were a part of John's world, which meant they might have to be a part of Sherlock's as well if what he felt about John was real. But he didn't have to think about other people right now. It could just be Sherlock and John for the rest of the weekend.

When they arrived back at the flat, Sherlock put the kettle on while John put his bag into the bedroom. His phone went off, and he took it out of his pocket as he made his way to the sitting room again. It was a number he didn't recognise, with a one word message. 

_Queer._

John blinked and swallowed hard, standing where the hall and sitting room met. 

Sherlock grabbed some biscuits and put them on a plate. Once he'd poured the tea, he set it all on a tray and headed toward the sitting room. "What are you doing?" he asked John who was still frozen on the spot.

John blinked, looking up at Sherlock and shaking his head. "Nothing," he murmured. He made himself move forward and sit on the sofa, offering Sherlock a small smile.

"I brought biscuits," Sherlock said. "Want some?"

John shook his head. "No, I'm okay," he said.

Sherlock looked over at him. He didn't seem okay. "You don't seem okay," he said.

John shook his head. "It's nothing." He put the phone on the side away from Sherlock. 

Sherlock watched John's movement. He put the plate down and handed John a mug. Then he took a sip from his own. "All right then," he said. "What did the text say?"

John stared down into his tea. Without looking up, John handed Sherlock his phone, the screen still open.

Sherlock looked at the text. "And this is from her?" he asked.

"I don't know that number," he said.

"This has something to do with her, though, right?" Sherlock asked. "The timing would be quite coincidental otherwise."

John nodded. "I'm sure she told them, her friends, I mean, and now mine must know . . . and soon everyone." He didn't know why he was bothered, but the word felt scarred onto his chest.

"John," Sherlock said and then stopped. He needed to think for a moment. He needed to be careful with his words, which wasn't always his speciality. He picked up John's hand. "Sometimes people aren't kind, John," he said. "And it's very not nice."

John scoffed softly. "I'm not even queer," he mumbled. "Not like they think."

"I see," Sherlock said. He thought for a moment. "Does saying that make you feel better?"

John flushed lightly. "No, not really."

"Say something that would make you feel better," Sherlock said.

"They're idiots," he said. 

"I'm sure they are," Sherlock said. "But I'm not. And you're not."

John shook his head, looking at their hands together.

"But I am this way," Sherlock said. "I mean, I am homosexual, John. A queer. Just like they think."

"I --" John swallowed awkwardly. "I don't know what you want me to say. What am I supposed to say?" 

"What are you, John Watson?" Sherlock said. 

John stared down at their hands. "I'm dating Sherlock Holmes."

"All right," Sherlock said, picking up his tea and taking a sip. "That's good enough for me." 

John looked over at him, studying his face. "Really?"

"It doesn't matter to me what you are, though clearly it does matter to you," Sherlock said. "What matters to me is who you are and you are John Watson. That's good enough for me."

"I'm working on trying to figure out who he is," John admitted. "But I know how I feel about you."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Does that mean you still want to sleep in my bed with me?"

John nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"And do you think we might do 'queer' stuff?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't -- please don’t use that word," John said, looking away again.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked. 

"I don't like it," he said.

"There's nothing wrong with the word," Sherlock said. "Obviously that text implies it's a bad thing. But it's not."

"But they meant --"

"I wish their words didn't matter so much to you," Sherlock said. "As I said, I know it's horrible, but I hope you can figure out a way not to let it hurt you." He looked over. "It could happen again . . . I don't want you to be hurt every time and then . . . resent me."

"I won't resent you, Sherlock. It's not your fault. . ." He took a breath and let it out. "I have to figure this out, no matter what others will say."

Sherlock leaned over and wrapped his arms around John, pulling him close. "It's okay, John," he said softly. "I know it's not nice, especially the first time it happens." He put a kiss on top of John's head. "I'm sorry it happened."

John was silent for a moment, his head feeling a little overwhelmed. "Let's just try to forget it for now, okay?" he said quietly.

"All right," Sherlock said. He wouldn't mention it again tonight. He didn't want John to feel hurt anymore, even though there was a part of him that was still worried. Maybe he'd never be able to care about someone without worrying about something. Maybe neither of them would be okay with the fact that this relationship was so different.


	7. In Sherlock's Room

The silence seemed too long, and John wanted it to end. "You mentioned the bedroom . . ."

Sherlock came back out of his mind, trying to shake off his worry. "Yes, why don't we go in there for a bit? There's something I'd like to show you," he said.

"What is it?" He asked, getting up to walk towards the room.

"It's mainly kissing-based," Sherlock said, falling onto the bed. "Interested?"

John nodded, climbing into the bed next to Sherlock.

Sherlock turned over to face him. He slid his hands to John's cheeks, holding them as he looked him right in the eyes. "John," he said. "I didn't like seeing you hurt. I don't want to cause you to feel like that, and I wish I could prevent it from ever happening again." He leaned it and gave him a soft kiss.

"It's okay," John lied. "I'm okay," he said, hoping that was true.

"I am glad we met," Sherlock said. He slid even closer, pressing himself against John. "And I liked the things we did last night and this morning," he added, tangling their legs.

"Me too," John said. "It felt good."

"Do you want to do anything like that now?" Sherlock asked, slowly rubbing his hand over John's back.

The text flashed in John's mind, but he pushed it away. "Yeah," he said.

Sherlock saw what had happened. "It's just me and you here, John," he said, pushing himself up and leaning over John a little. "Don't let anyone else in."

John shook his head. "No one else . . . just us," he said. "Me and you."

Sherlock lay back down and rubbed John's arm for a few minutes. "Maybe we should take off some of our clothes," he eventually said, starting to unbutton his shirt.

John nodded, pulling his t-shirt over his head. He touched Sherlock's bare chest, grazing over his nipple.

"I want to taste every part of you," Sherlock said, leaning over John again and beginning to kiss John's neck before licking over his collarbone and then down his chest. He flicked his tongue over John's nipples and then began to suck and nuzzle one.

John gasped softly, arching into his mouth. "Sherlock -- wait," he said, tugging his hair lightly.

Sherlock lifted his head and looked up. "You okay?" he asked.

John nodded, taking a deep breath. "I want -- I want to . . . taste you."

"You don't have to --" Sherlock said. 

"I want to," John said. He shifted to sit up.

"All right," Sherlock said. He moved to lean back as he undid his trousers and slipped off the rest of his clothes. "I'm not . . . hard yet, but it won't be long," he added unnecessarily.

John moved between his legs, wrapping his fingers around Sherlock's cock. "I'll get you there," he said as he started a slow stroke.

"That's good," Sherlock exhaled. He slid down just a little. "You can stop anytime, you know . . ." he mumbled. 

"Does it taste . . . I mean, does it taste bad?" John asked stupidly, leaning down more as Sherlock's cock got harder in his hand.

"I've never tasted mine," Sherlock said. "It doesn't taste of anything, I don't think . . . you don't have to taste it if you don't want to."

John nodded but he licked out anyway, his tongue touching the head. It didn't taste like anything, just skin. As he stroked the shaft he sucked the head into his mouth.

"God," Sherlock exhaled. "Your mouth feels good . . . are you all right with it?"

John licked his lips and nodded. When he took the head into his mouth again, he moved a bit lower, up, and then even lower. He was trying to get used to his mouth being full like this.

Sherlock reached down and touched John's shoulder. "It's good," he repeated. "Everything's right . . ."

John moved lower, taking half of Sherlock into his mouth with every movement. His hands kept working the bottom. When he felt Sherlock leaking on his tongue he made a face, but really it wasn't awful. He licked out again.

"We can stop if you want . . ." Sherlock mumbled. He lifted his hand to run his fingers through his hair. "John . . . it feels good . . ."

John kept going, taking a bit more each time. He looked up at Sherlock hoping it was really good and he wasn't just saying that.

"I don't think I can take anymore without coming -- I'm sorry," Sherlock said, his breath rough. "It just feels too good . . . what do you want me to do?"

John pulled away slowly. "What should I do?

"Whatever you want," Sherlock smiled, squirming a little.

John moved closer. "Tell me when," he said.

Sherlock dipped his head. He wanted to watch but his eyelids closed and he whispered, "It's going to happen . . . I have to move -- I'm sorry . . ." His hips jerked a little, but he tried to keep himself under control. "God, John," he called and then he was coming.

John pulled back quickly, finishing Sherlock with his hand. He had wanted to stay, imagined it, but then he chickened out. It would be so different.

Sherlock opened his eyes. His breath was ragged, and his skin damp with sweat. "God, John," he mumbled. "You were brilliant -- are you okay with it all? Did you like it?"

John nodded. "I'm okay." He brought his hand up and licked out quickly, making a face before realising he didn't mind it. When he saw Sherlock watching, he flushed and put his hand down quickly.

"Come up here," Sherlock said, reaching out for him. 

John shifted up closer to Sherlock. "Sorry -- I was just curious," he explained.

"You are perfect, John Watson," Sherlock said. He kissed his mouth and then pulled him close. "Did you like it though?"

John nodded. "I did. I liked how good it made you feel."

"It made me feel incredibly good," Sherlock said. He reached over and put a hand on John's leg. "Can I touch you now?"

"Yes please," John said

"Get all your clothes off then," Sherlock said, laughing as he pushed John back onto the bed.

John finished undressing quickly, his cock already hard. Sherlock moved and began stroking John as he kissed down his chest to his belly. He looked up at John and asked, "Can you reach into the drawer and get me the lube?"

John flushed lightly. "The lube?" He reached into the drawer and got the bottle. 

Sherlock tipped some into his hand and went back to stroking John. "Smooth," he mumbled as he went back to kissing John's stomach. Then he shifted his body down the bed and nipped at each of John's thighs. "Does it feel good?" he asked.

John nodded, shifting and swallowing hard. 

Sherlock watched John's body reactions as he continued to stroke. He sped up his hand before he moved up again and kissed John's mouth, biting his bottom lip softly. "You are so sexy, John Watson," he purred. "I could do this all night."

Sherlock looked down between their bodies. His own cock was hard again. "Separate your legs and move your hips," he said. "Lift up your body when you come. I want to watch it all." He kissed John again and then went back to watching his hand.

John did as Sherlock asked, lifting into the rhythm of his hand. "Sherlock . . . God. . ." He closed his eyes, imagining what Sherlock might have done with the lube and then focusing on what he felt now. He came, lifting off of the bed.

Sherlock kissed John's mouth, sucking in each of John's exhales. "God, that was sexy," he said, moving over. He grabbed his shirt and wipe his hand on it before lying on his side to face John. "John, you are incredible in so many ways," he said. 

John turned towards Sherlock. "You too," he said. 

"I know," Sherlock teased. He fiddled with John's fingers. "Pull yourself together a bit and then we'll rest. Later, I'll get you some food. I have a feeling you're horrible if you don't get enough fuel."

John grinned. "Not horrible. But if I'm fueled we can do more of...all that," he smiled.

"Maybe," Sherlock said. "If you insist." He rolled flat on his back. "Did you like it with the lube?" he asked.

John nodded. "I usually use lotion when . . . but that was good."

"It's good for many things," Sherlock said quietly. 

"I thought that's where we were heading when you asked me to get it," John admitted. "I imagined it."

"Is that so?" Sherlock said, sitting up on his elbow. He looked over at John. "And what exactly were you imagining?"

John looked at the bed between them, picking at something invisible on the sheet. "Just . . .you know." He paused. "Will it hurt?"

"No," Sherlock said softly. "It's unusual if you've never done it before, but I won't hurt you." He ran a hand through John's hair and smiled at him. "Any other questions about the things that you've imagined?"

John looked up again at Sherlock's touch and smiled softly. "I can't think of any right now," he said. He looked down and played with the sheet again. "Do you like it a certain way?"

"I think I'll like it with you . . . whatever way we do it," Sherlock said. "If we do it -- we don't have to, you know. I just want to make you feel good. That's what I like."

They lay quietly for a while resting. Eventually John's body was wide awake again. "Didn't you promise me food?" he asked, leaning over Sherlock and pulling a bit on his hair.

"Right, right, right," Sherlock said, stretching out a bit. "Fine. Here's the plan -- we're not going out. We're going to order food and relax while you refuel. Then I'm going to share with you another case I worked on and if you solve it, you will be rewarded. Highly rewarded," he added, pulling a stupid face. "All right?"

John grinned and nodded. "Okay, sure. And if I don't solve it?"

"I haven't decided yet," Sherlock said, pushing himself up and reaching around for his clothes. "But it'll be horrible, I assure you. I have confidence in your abilities, though, so don't get too anxious." He stood up and got dressed, grabbing a new shirt from the wardrobe.

John tugged his bag closer and got dressed as well, watching Sherlock and smiling softly.

Sherlock stood up and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Then he opened his laptop and brought up a page of local restaurants. "Choose what you want," he said when John came into the sitting room.

John sat down and looked at the different places before settling on one. "Should I order online?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, coming in with the tea. "Let me have a look first." He skimmed the page. "Get me one of those," he said pointing to the screen. He pulled his wallet out and flipped his card over to John. "I've ordered from there before so they might have the info, but use this if they don't." 

John placed the order and, like Sherlock mentioned, they already had the information. "Okay, they'll deliver it in thirty minutes."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Let's do nothing until then." He flicked on the television and moved through the channels until he found something that looked promising. After about twenty minutes, he took the empty tea mugs to the kitchen and brought out some plates. The food arrived and he served it up. Afterwards, he put the kettle on. "Will you make the tea?" he asked John. "I need to gather the stuff from the case." He nodded toward his desk.

John nodded and made his way into the kitchen, starting the kettle again. The food had been amazing.

Sherlock piled a few files on top of one another and then nodded to John to take the tea into the sitting room where he joined them. "Okay, so I'm going to describe what I was asked to do and then what I found out. Then you tell me what you think, okay? You can ask questions whenever you need to." He took a sip of tea.

"Okay," John nodded. "Go."

Sherlock started talking, pulling out photos, maps, and test results as he explained everything he'd been told and everything he'd found out on his own. Once he'd finished he said, "I presume you agree that the animals had been deliberately poisoned. Who, how and why is what I'd like you to tell me -- rather, just give me your gut responses -- that's all the information I need to determine whether or not you deserve a reward."

John tried to process all of the information, looking over the papers and pictures Sherlock was showing him. He thought about it for a moment. "Um . . . I think it was that teenager. If he couldn't have his own pet then no one could," he said. "Plus there was that incident with breaking into the neighbour's and I think it was for the dog."

Sherlock had been watching John as he thought. He'd watched John put all of the pieces together. He kept his face neutral as he collected all the material back into the folder. "I see," he said flatly. "I'll need some time to process the results," he said as he put away the file. Then he sat back on the sofa, drinking his tea and staring ahead.

John opened his mouth but closed it again. He leaned back and took a long drink of tea.

Sherlock was impressed with John's patience. A wide smile came across his face. "I think your findings were likely worth two rewards," he said. "They'll be delivered to you in good course. Let's watch a film or something first."

"Two? Wow. Was I right?" he asked. 

"Mostly," Sherlock said. "That's why you're not getting three rewards," he added cheekily.

John rolled his eyes but smiled at Sherlock. "Okay, that's fair."

"Is this film okay?" Sherlock said. "And is this okay as well?" he asked as he turned on the sofa, putting his legs across John's lap.

John nodded. "Yes to both," he smiled. He rested his hand on Sherlock's shin and leaned back to watch the movie. 

Sherlock wasn't all that interested in the film, but he wanted some time for John to relax. When the film was over, he said, "I need a bath. Perhaps you could join me?"

"In the -- really?"

"I think there will be room," Sherlock said. "Want to?"

"Okay," John nodded. He put his mug down and stood up.

Sherlock stood up as he moved into the bedroom. "Did you bring pajamas? Bring them in with you," he instructed. "We're going to have an early night," he added with a wink. He pulled some of his own pajamas out of a drawer.

John brought in the boxer shorts and t-shirt as he followed Sherlock. "Is the bathroom a reward?"

"Well, not the bathroom itself," Sherlock said. "The bath, I suppose." He leaned over and turned on the water. While it ran, he brushed his teeth.

John did the same, watching Sherlock in the mirror and smiling.

When they were finished, Sherlock started stripping himself of his clothes. Before he took off his trousers, though, he tested the water and then turned it off. "I like it quite hot," he said. "Is this too hot for you?" 

John touched the water and shook his head. "No, it's okay for me," he said. He started taking his clothes off, putting them in a neat pile on the floor.

Sherlock turned off the overhead light and then let his trousers drop to the floor. He stepped into the bath, quickly adjusting to the water before sitting down. He leaned back a little and then separated his legs. "There's room for you to sit as well," he said, pointing to the space between his legs.

John climbed in and carefully sat in front of Sherlock, leaning back against him.

Sherlock put his arms around John, resting his hand on John's legs. "Feels nice," he said softly.

Somehow this felt even more intimate to John than what they had done already. "It does feel good," he said softly.

Sherlock slid his hands up John's arms and began to rub John's shoulder. "Can you reach the soap?" he asked softly.

John leaned forward and got it, passing it to Sherlock. Sherlock took it from him and soaped up his hands which he ran softly over John's back. He leaned forward and put a small kiss on John's neck even though it meant he got a soap taste in his mouth. He rubbed the bar of soap again and then slid his hands around John's body, running them over his chest.

"I think I'll wash your hair," he said, as if the idea had just popped into his mind.

"Okay," John said.

Sherlock reached back and grabbed the shampoo. "You'll have to lean forward and turn the tap on to get your hair wet," he said as he poured some shampoo into his hand.

John did as Sherlock asked, leaning forward and closing his eyes as the water dripped all over his face. He closed it and sat back again, tipping his head so the soap wouldn't get into his eyes. Sherlock began rubbing John's head. He let his fingers lace through his wet hair until there was a little lather. Then he just massaged his scalp for a bit, feeling the shape of his skull. He rubbed behind John's ears, a place on John's body he'd yet to touch. It was quite nice actually. "Okay," he said finally. "You can rinse."

"It'll get in my eyes if I lean forward," he said, looking back at Sherlock with a small smile.

"I'm sure you can handle it," Sherlock said. "Or leave it on and we'll turn on the shower right before we're ready to get out." He quickly ran the bar of soap over his own body.

"I'll wait to stand up," he said. "Thank you for doing that."

"Well, you earned it," Sherlock said. "And besides, I quite enjoyed doing it."

John smiled and turned a bit to kiss him.

"Feel clean?" Sherlock said. "Are you ready to get out?"

John nodded. "Yeah. And the water is getting chilly," he said. 

"All right," Sherlock said, shifting a little. "Let's run the shower and then get out."

John shifted and stood up, turning to help Sherlock up. 

Sherlock leaned past John and turned on the shower, adjusting quickly to get the temperature right. "Rinse your hair then to protect your precious eyes," he laughed.

John stuck his tongue out and rinsed his hair quickly.

Sherlock moved under the shower to rinse and then turned it off, stepping out and wrapping a towel around himself. He pulled out an extra and threw it at John. "You're nude," he said, looking him over.

"Yeah," John smiled, drying off quickly and wrapping the towel around his waist. "You are too."

Sherlock quickly slipped his pajama bottoms on. "Am not," he said.

John followed suit, hanging the towel up. "You were," he said. "I was."

"Do you think you're ready for your second reward?" Sherlock asked. "This one's in the bedroom."

John nodded, smiling softly. "I'm ready."

Sherlock leaned over and gave John a quick kiss and then headed out to the kitchen. He poured two glasses of wine, handed one to John, and made his way into the bedroom. He didn't pull down the covers, but just lay down on the bed instead.

John climbed up and sat cross legged beside him, sipping his wine.

"So," Sherlock said. "What would you be doing now if we hadn't met?" He twirled his glass a little, watching the wine move.

"Hmm. Without a match to spark a party, I would be in my room, probably catching up on my reading. Pleasure reading, I mean."

"I'm not sure I believe that," Sherlock said. "But I'll tell you what I'd be doing -- this. I mean, not with another person, but I very often have a hot bath and a glass of wine on a Saturday night because I am generally anti-social." He took a sip of wine.

"Why don't you believe me?" John asked.

"Because you seem like the type who likes to go out and be around people," Sherlock said. 

John shrugged. "Sometimes," he said.

Sherlock set his glass down and turned on his side to face John. "We're different," Sherlock said. "But maybe that doesn't have to be a bad thing. If you can tolerate me, I'll do my best to do the same." He rubbed John's leg. 

"You mean like if I invite you to do stuff with me and my friends?"

Sherlock moved his hand away. "I don't know . . . can we see?" he asked. "I mean . . . this is quite unusual for me. I don't know if I can really explain it, but even the fact that I might consider something like that . . . " He rolled back over and smiled. "You really are something, John Watson."

John smiled at him. "There's no rush. Don't worry, okay?"

"Okay, I won't worry," Sherlock said. He tried extra hard to sound like he meant it. "How's this doing?" he asked casually as he moved his hand casually, resting it casually on John's crotch.

"Depends what you mean -- the evening, your touches, or my crotch?" John asked, smiling cheekily at Sherlock.

Sherlock stretched out his index and pushed on John's cock. "I mean this," he said, biting at the material of John's pajamas on his thigh.

"It's fine . . . I mean, it's good," he said. He combed his fingers through Sherlock's wet hair. 

Sherlock shifted a little and stretched down, softly nuzzling the area of John's lap. "It is good," he hummed as pressed his body against John's legs.

John flushed lightly and combed through Sherlock's hair harder.

"I want to have sex with you, John," Sherlock purred against John's pajamas. "What do you think of that?"

"I'm nervous," John admitted. "But I want to."

"Well, I'm nervous, too," Sherlock said softly, not looking up at John yet. "Because even though I've done it all before, I've never done it with someone I feel this way about."

John bit his lip. "What should I do?" he asked.

Sherlock glanced up and smiled. He shifted his body onto John's and kissed his mouth hungrily. John moaned into the kiss, returning it eagerly as he looped his arms around Sherlock. Suddenly it felt like Sherlock could feel the kiss all through his body, and he started to grind his hips against John. A noise escaped from his mouth as his cock immediately started to stiffen. John shifted and pushed up a bit, moaning softly. He shifted lower, trying to lie flat so he could feel Sherlock better against him. 

"Get on top of me," Sherlock said, rolling over to lie flat on the bed. "I want to feel your weight on me." He grabbed on John's arms to pull him.

John moved to get over Sherlock, straddling his hips. Sherlock slid his hands down John's body and gripped his arse. He pulled slightly, wanting John to start thinking about what might happen. John let his body move with Sherlock's hands, both of his own curled behind Sherlock's head and playing with his hair.

"My neck," Sherlock mumbled, lifting up off the bed against John's body. "Yes," Sherlock moaned. "That feels good . . . you make me feel good."

"You make me feel good," John moaned.

"Just a bit longer like this," Sherlock said. "And then I want to make you feel so good." He tangled one of his hands through John's hair and let the other one run up and down his body. John shivered as he kissed upwards again, finding Sherlock's mouth and continued to grind against him.

Sherlock nipped at John's lip and then opened his eyes to meet John's. He quickly turned them so John was back against the bed. "Take off your pajamas," he said softly as he reached to turn off the lamp and then got the lube from the drawer.

John pulled his shirt off before laying back and pushing his boxers down and off onto the floor. He looked up and, in the dim light, saw the bottle in Sherlock's hand. His whole body warmed, and he squirmed nervously.

Sherlock moved between John's legs. He leaned over his body and kissed his mouth and then trailed his kisses down his chest and belly before licking a stripe up his cock. Then he settled back and dribbled some lube into his hands. He began stroking John's cock. "Does this feel good?" he asked, looking up.

John nodded, holding Sherlock's gaze and petting his hair. "What should I do?" He asked.

"Nothing right now," Sherlock said softly. "Just relax. And tell me if you want to stop." He kept stroking with one hand and used the other to move John's leg a little, scooting his own body closer.

"Okay," John said, shifting lightly. "It feels good."

"Good," Sherlock said. He poured some more lube into his hands. He stroked again with one hand and let the other explore between John's legs, rubbing everywhere as he continued to move John's legs apart. "It should only feel good," he said, leaning over and kissing John's abdomen.

John nodded, tensing without realising it.

"You can say stop whenever," Sherlock reminded him, kissing his stomach again. He kept his fingers moving, brushing them lightly over everything. "Is all of this new?" he asked almost in a whisper.

"Yes," John murmured. "Don't stop, okay?" he added.

"Be patient," Sherlock said, looking up and giving him a sweet smile. "Relax now," he said and softly pushed one fingertip through the tight muscle around John's hole. "Focus on this," he added, changing his stroke on John's cock.

John gasped softly. Despite Sherlock's hand moving steadily on his cock, John couldn't think of anything but Sherlock's finger pushing into him. He swallowed hard and bit his lip. 

"Relax," Sherlock said again. As he pushed his finger in further, he leaned over and kissed John's stomach. "You're so sexy . . ." he whispered. 

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly on a low moan. "Sherlock, it's . . ."

"I know it's different . . . but I want it to feel good," Sherlock said. He began to move his finger ever so slightly. "Look up at me," he said. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

John held his gaze. "I'm glad it's you," he said. He stroked Sherlock's hair as he took another deep breath. 

"Me too," Sherlock said. "I need you to do something for me now." He let go of John's cock and reached for his hand. "I need you to take care of this," he said, wrapping both their hands around John's cock. "I need to concentrate on something else. Okay?"

John whimpered softly and nodded. He stroked himself slowly, still gazing down at Sherlock.

Sherlock shifted a little lower, using his free hand to grip the meat of John's thigh. He began to move his finger more, following the slow rhythm John was setting.

John felt the shift from uncomfortable stretch to pleasant pressure. "Sherlock . . .can I have more?" He asked softly.

"Of course," Sherlock said. He bent down and began to nip and kiss John's thigh as he slid a second slick finger in. He began to lightly pump them a little faster.

John moaned loudly, biting his lip as he flushed. He couldn't stop squirming. Sherlock curved his fingers to bump against John's prostate, lifting his head to check John's reaction. John's eyes squeezed tighter and his mouth fell open wider. No sound came out as his breath caught with the spike of heat. And then it released in a groan as he gripped the sheets. 

"God, John . . . you're so--" Sherlock started and then his voice stopped. He kept his fingers where they were but he shifted up onto his knees and began stroking himself with his free hand. "Hurry," he exhaled. "I want you to come with me."

John stroked faster. "More . . . do it again," he pleaded, keeping his eyes on Sherlock as he pumped his hand on his cock.

Sherlock curved his fingers again, but he was so close himself, it was hard to concentrate. "Good," he mumbled as his breath stuck in his throat.

John called out loudly as he came over his belly, arching and moaning Sherlock's name. He didn't remember coming this intensely before. 

"Fuck," Sherlock moaned and he came too, spilling over his hand. He slid his fingers from John and flopped down on to the bed next to him, quickly leaning in to kiss John, before lying back flat to catch his breath.

John was panted, his breathing uneven as it kept catching with small bursts of pleasure spiking through him. "Sherlock," he whispered, letting his head fall to the side to look at him.

"You okay?" Sherlock whispered, slowly turning his head to look at John.

John nodded. "Is it always so good?"

"Of course not," Sherlock smiled. "This made it that good," he added, motioning between the two of them. "I'm glad you liked it."

John smiled softly. "Did you like it too?" he asked.

"I did -- couldn't you tell?" Sherlock smiled. He stroked John's arm. "You are something else, John."

John smiled softly. "You too," he said.

"What do you want to do now?" Sherlock said. He rolled over and looked at the clock. "It's quite early really, but you have exhausted me a little."

"We could take a nap," John suggested, feeling a bit tired again himself.

"All right," Sherlock said. He turned on his side away from John. "Get by me, please," he said.

John scooted closer and wrapped around Sherlock. 

Sherlock snuggled back and down into the pillow. "Always be honest with me, John," he mumbled as he started to drift to sleep.

"I am -- I will," John mumbled as he fell asleep.


	8. The Changes

Sherlock slept, warm and comfortable in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. John slept as well, but only for an hour. He had a strange dream, blurry and short, but it was about Sherlock. He was hard when he woke up, and he pressed against Sherlock. He kissed Sherlock's neck softly.

Sherlock opened his eyes, confused for just a second. "What's going on, John Watson?" he asked sleepily.

John shifted against him. "Sherlock. . . I had a dream about you . . ."

"Did you?" Sherlock asked, rolling over to face John. He tangled their legs. "And. . .?"

John bit his lip. "We were doing stuff like before . . . but more . . ."

Sherlock slid his hand down John's body, palming his cock. "And was this your reaction?" he asked, nuzzling into John's neck.

John nodded. "I want to feel you inside," he whispered.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, starting to stroke John slowly.

John nodded. "Please . . .it was so good before . . ."

"Okay, John," Sherlock said. "Let's kiss while you help with this," he added, bringing John's hand to his cock.

John stared to stroke Sherlock slowly, leaning in to kiss him. Sherlock kissed back. Their hands bumped against each other, but he didn't even care -- it felt good, it felt right, it felt. . . safe. Sherlock found himself surprised that that word had popped into his head, but he couldn't deny its truth. "John," he mumbled for no real reason. He pressed himself closer, further complicating their movements. "I need . . ."

"Me too," John mumbled.

Sherlock pulled back and reached around trying to find the bottle of lube. He pushed John onto his back and then moved between his legs again. "You have to tell me if you want me to stop," he said, trying to get the top off the bottle.

"I will," John promised. "I mean, I'll tell you. I won't want to stop."

Sherlock poured lube in his hands and began rubbing John -- stroking his cock, then squeezing his thighs, and holding his balls. "Just concentrate on what's happening now, all right?" he said. "Just think about this . . ." He leaned and nuzzled John's hip bones.

John nodded, his cock already hard in Sherlock's hand. Sherlock kept his hands moving, occasionally giving himself a stroke as well. He let his fingers brush over John's hole a few times and then he began to slowly push one in. "I need to . . ." he started to say, leaning down again to nip at the side of John's stomach and hips.

John moaned as Sherlock pushed his finger in, nodding and gazing at him. Sherlock's finger moved more easily this time and he started a smooth, faster rhythm. He watched John's body and face reacting -- it was beautiful. "I need . . ." he said again, slipping in a second finger.

John groaned softly, squirming as he felt Sherlock's fingers stretching to open him. Sherlock's cock was bigger than two fingers. He panted softly with nerves, biting his lip again.

Sherlock kept moving, curving his fingers occasionally, stretching John. "I need your help again," he said, grabbing for John's hand, encouraging him to stroke himself. Then he slid his fingers from John's body and reached for a condom.

John gripped his own cock and stroked slowly. "Sherlock, I'm --" He trailed off and swallowed hard. 

"It's okay, John," Sherlock said, moving back. He tickled his fingers over John's stomach. "We'll go slow . . . it'll feel good and I'll stop if it doesn't. You have to promise to tell me," he said. He ripped open the package, stroking himself and then sliding the condom on. He poured more lube, covering himself and John again. He leaned forward a little and got into position. He looked up. "I'm going to . . . okay?"

John held Sherlock's gaze and nodded. He wanted it, wanted to try it. He wanted Sherlock like this. He trusted Sherlock to get him there. "Okay," he nodded.

Sherlock pushed as slowly as he could and as soon as he was in, he dropped down closer to John, kissing his mouth and then mumbling, "Are you okay?" It felt good to Sherlock -- it felt very good and he'd have to start moving soon -- but he wanted John to be all right.

John gasped, his breath caught in his throat. He felt every inch, every bit stretching him open and filling him. He couldn't move, couldn't think as he blinked up at Sherlock's face. And then Sherlock was still and John was so full, the feeling radiating through his body. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes to let his body adjust. It felt like forever until he said, "I'm okay."

Sherlock watched every change on John's face. "Let's kiss," he said and gave John a passionate kiss, lifting his hands to hold John's head.

John tried to focus on the kiss as he returned it, letting go of the sheets to wrap his arms around Sherlock.

Sherlock pulled back and opened his eyes a little. "I need to move," he said, pushing up onto his arms. "Okay?"

John nodded. "Okay," he murmured, holding the sheets again. Then he moved to hold Sherlock's arms.

Sherlock dropped his head and quickly kissed him and then pushed up again, as he slowly began to rock his hips. It was torture almost actually, but a good kind. He pressed into John, slowly and steadily, trying to watch John's face but occasionally having to squeeze shut his eyes as pleasure filled him. John made a soft sound every time Sherlock moved in again. He alternated gazing at Sherlock and closing his eyes, finally remembering to lazily stroke himself. 

Sherlock tried to shift his body to give John more room, rolling his hips to go deeper without being rougher. "Is it all right?" he whispered.

John felt the shift, felt Sherlock moving deeper. He moaned as he nodded, blinking his eyes open to look up at him. 

Sherlock felt his mouth curl into a small smile. He pushed up even more and held one of John's legs, giving himself a little more room. He glanced down but the sight was almost too much. "I'm close," he mumbled, even though part of him wanted it to go on forever.

John swallowed hard and nodded, trying to stroke himself faster. The newness was gone now, and he just concentrated on the feeling of Sherlock moving into him. "Sherlock..." he moaned.

"John, I --" Sherlock started and then his eyes squeezed shut and he came, pushing in once more. "God, John . . ." he exhaled, his body tight and damp with sweat.

John swiped his thumb over the tip, gasping as he watched Sherlock before letting himself follow over the edge. His body squeezed around Sherlock as every nerve lit up in his body.

Sherlock stilled and then slowly pulled his body back, getting rid of the condom and lying down next to John. "I --" he started in a quiet voice. He stopped and was silent for a moment. "Did you like it?" he eventually asked.

John nodded, the sudden emptiness making him shiver. He turned towards Sherlock, curling closer to him. "It was so . . . much," he said, which wasn't quite the right word but the best he could do.

Sherlock buried his face into John's chest. "I wanted you to like it," he said. "I just wanted you to feel good." He looked up and kissed his mouth softly. "It felt good . . . thank you."

John shifted lower so he could bury into Sherlock's neck. "It did . . .I did feel good," he said, pressing a kiss there.

Sherlock held the back of John's head softly. "Good," he said. "I'm . . . so glad you're here."

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock. "It only hurt a little bit," he confessed. "Well, I mean, it felt . . ."

"It's new," Sherlock explained. "It won't next time . . . I mean, if you want to again someday."

John smiled. "I do," he confirmed. 

Sherlock squeezed John tight. "I think," he said. "I might need a cup of tea and possibly even a quick shower." He pulled back a bit. "I'll put the kettle on and then rinse off. You can go after me if you want." He put a kiss on John's head and got up from the, sliding his pajama bottoms on.

"Can we lay down again after?" John asked, not wanting to be away from him yet.

"Of course," Sherlock said. "I want you to stay again . . . I won't be long," he added with a smile. He was only gone a few minutes. "You can use the bathroom now," he said, setting down the mugs. "And then come back, yeah?"

John leaned in and kissed him, going into the bathroom to clean up. He winced, walking a bit funny there and back. He climbed back into bed and settled with a soft sigh.

When John left, Sherlock pulled the messy sheets from the bed and stuck on some clean ones. He crawled back in and sipped his tea. "It'll feel uncomfortable for a bit," Sherlock admitted when John returned. "But that'll be gone by morning. I promise."

John nodded, sipping at his tea. "Was it as good as the other times? I mean -- was I good?" he asked.

Sherlock glanced over. He knew these types of questions were tricky. He wouldn't lie but he also didn't want to say something that might make John think he was lying even if he wasn't. "The other times don't matter," he finally said. "You make me feel different and better than I've ever felt and that's what matters." He took a sip of tea, hoping that'd been the right answer because it was also the true answer.

John licked his lips lightly. "I feel -- I mean, you make me feel different too. Different than I have with -- than ever before, I mean."

Sherlock set his cup down and turned to lie down on his side, facing John. "I don't want it to be just about --" he said. "I know all that's new for you . . . but it's not for me and yet . . . you make everything different. I'm not saying the words right but . . ." He glanced down at the bed, as he reached over and touched John's arm.

John took a deep breath. "I'm worried that what I feel . . . is because it's all new to me. But I also know other things are different -- everything is different with you, not just that." He wasn't sure exactly what he was saying, but he wanted to be honest.

"It's okay," Sherlock said, squeezing John's arm. It didn't feel entirely okay, but it would have to be. "I appreciate your being honest."

"I'm sorry -- all I meant was that it's good, what I feel. Everything. I'm sorry that came out bad."

Sherlock looked up at him again. "Okay," he said. "I believe you." He sat up again and finished his tea. "We've not been very productive tonight, but I'm really glad you're here," he added, looking over and smiling. 

John smiled. He sipped his tea and then slouched down a bit more comfortably. "I'm glad I'm here too," he smiled.

"You could stay here more," Sherlock said. "I mean, if you want . . . it's better than a residence hall . . ." He wasn't quite sure what he was saying, but he said it anyway.

"You mean move in with you?" John asked softly, shifting to face Sherlock and get more comfortable.

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "I mean, you could just stay here more or always or whatever you'd like." He felt his face warm a bit so he moved down the bed a bit, pushing his head into the pillow. "I'm a bit sleepy now . . . we can talk about that later . . ."

"Okay," he murmured, touching Sherlock's cheek softly and petting his hair. 

"But think about it," Sherlock mumbled. "Because I am very much liking this," he added as pulled John close. He closed his eyes and knew that he was smiling as he started to drift.

John nodded, petting Sherlock's hair until they were both asleep.

Sherlock was deep in a dream -- he was doing something somewhere with someone, no, not just someone -- it was John. Then he heard a noise and looked around the dream room until he realised it wasn't in the dream at all. He opened his eyes. John was still sleeping beside him, but had rolled to face the wall. Sherlock turned and grabbed his phone. One new message.

_Walking home. Thinking of stopping by. V_

Sherlock glanced over at John's sleeping form.

_Not interested. SH_

_All right. Next weekend perhaps? V_

_No. SH_

_You okay? V_

_Yes. SH_

_Why the premature no then? V_

_Things have changed. SH_

He thought for a second and sent another.

_I have changed. SH_

Sherlock turned off his phone before the reply came through. He set it on the bedside table and lay back down, curling behind John and sliding an arm around his body.


End file.
